#his characters are a whole lot of brutally dangerous men

[atlasascending]

Bitches that are attracted to Tom Hardy characters, are you ok?

[whateverthedragonswant]

Rewatching 8x05 for writing reasons, which is just a brilliant episode, despite any reasons some might have to hate it, valid or invalid. Miguel Sapochnik is directing and you see his talent and epicness in every shot (that man deserves a freaking Emmy already, I said what I said) but also there are so many things being shown here that if you muted the episode after Daenerys makes her decision, during the battle scene, you would be able to tell exactly what each character is thinking and what's really going on in the story besides the surface action.

Which brings me to that one scene that a lot of people said the woman being attacked as a stand-in for Sansa in the episode for Jon. They are correct and here's how.

Jon is walking through the melee, only coming to life to defend himself when Lannister soldiers are trying to attack him. The Northerners aren't listening to him, they're attacking innocent civilians, Grey Worm is on a killing spree, Davos is trying to help people get away from the bloodshed, Dany is burning the city, Tyrion is off somewhere horrified, Cersei is watching in terror from the Red Keep... But during this scene, the sound is muted to a point where the sounds of battle happening all around Jon sound very far away. We're now seeing what Jon sees, we're in his shock fugue with him. We see on his left civilians, namely women, being brutalized by soldiers -> he keeps walking. We on his right a woman being knocked down to the ground while a child is watching in horror, blood spatter and bodies all around her (and obviously traumatized & also in danger herself since no one is left to protect her) -> he keeps walking. He then sees a Lanniser soldier telling people to run, something his soldiers should be doing (and something he himself should be doing like Davos) but he's not. While the sounds are still muted, Jon notices another Lannister soldier about to rush him and he goes into autopilot & fights the soldier off. He then looks around in horror.

This is not what he signed up for and he almost looks lost, like he doesn't know what to do. Then the sound comes back fully and he hears a scream. In all of the melee, chaos, and death around him, he hears this one woman above the rest and turns to see her being dragged into an alley to presumably be assaulted by one of his own men.

Sure enough, she's about to be and she is trying to crawl away when the man catches her again. Jon ends up saving her, threatening to run his sword through the man. When the latter tries to fight him off to go back to assault this woman, Jon kills him and tells the woman to hide.

So how is this woman standing in for Sansa besides the obvious?

Two ways.

1) Ramsay was the former Warden of the North, the former bastard of Roose Bolton who was a Northerner who "served" Robb Stark, the first King in the North, before betraying him to the Lannisters. The soldier Jon faces off with is a Northerner and is supposed to be under Jon's command as Warden of the North and the former second King in the North.

2) Sansa is who stirs Jon into action when he feels lost.

Every.

Time.

And the parallels between the gif above with Dany and the dagger to the Northern soldier that had Jon's sword run through him, and Jon's staring almost sadly at the man, realizing he had to kill one of his own are far from being coincidental.

Not only was this a precursor to what would occur in 8x06 (and why Jon would make the decision he did) but it also is symbolic of the dynamic between Jon and Sansa as a whole. She's the one who stirs him into action, no matter how terrified or traumatized or angry he might be in that moment (like the shock fugue). No matter how lost he might feel. She gives him direction and dare I say a purpose when he has none (after his death; after the WW are defeated & Dany has gone into tyrant mode).

No wonder we weren't allowed to see Sansa's (or Arya's) reaction to the news of his being a Targaryen.

No wonder Jon told Melisandre not to bring him back if he lost the Battle of the Bastards (after Sansa told him if he lost, she wouldn't be going back to Ramsay alive).

No wonder Jon was not happy with Sansa on the dock in 8x06.

She's always stirred him into action when he doesn't want to be or know how to do it himself (after his death).

He passed a woman he could have saved.

He passed a child he could have helped.

He saw someone on the other side helping and doing the right thing.

The only time he steps in to help someone else is the woman about to be assaulted.

(x) "You are the shield that guards the realms of men. You've always tried to do the right thing. No matter the cost. You've tried to protect people. Who's the greatest threat to the people now?" (no reaction)

"Do you think I'm the last man she'll execute? Who is more dangerous than the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?" (no reaction)

"And your sisters? Do you see them bending the knee?" (a little bit of a reaction)

"Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? Because she doesn't want Dany to be queen." (more of a reaction)

"No, but you do. And you have to choose now." (he hesitatingly goes to confront Dany and then 🗡️)

It's not just about her being his "sister" or because she's Lady Stark or family or because they were the last two Starks once upon a time. She literally stirs him into action and gives him purpose. Her pushing to go back to Winterfell led to him caring about the WW invasion again. Her being the one he chooses to protect ended a tyrant and changed history, leading for her to become the first Queen in the North and regain Northern Independence, where she can be forever safe.

It was always Sansa for him, starting in 6x04.

[thefatisland]

Heavenly Sword's Grand Saga (3-B)

Given there were a lot of nice panels in this part of the manhwa, I will use this extra-post to give a debrief of the plot and the character's reason for losing weight, so that it makes a bit more sense.

... Well actually it doesn't make much sense, but that might interest you into seeing the original piece.

You see, the person whose body you see here is actually... very probably dead. And the character we follow hijacked this body and now uses it as his own. I'll explain.

This is the very typical plot common of many Korean works of "I find myself in the body of someone else", mixed here with the also very common plot of "I am back into the past". Our protagonist and hero of the tale comes from the future - a bad future of chaos, war, famine, slaughters and other disasters. His spirit was sent into the past in order for him to eliminate the one who caused the world to become a living hell, a mysterious antagonist only known as the Servant of Chaos. In order to be able to defeat it, the protagonist as trained by the harshest and most insane, but also most talented, martial artists and expert swordsmen of his time, until he became a perfect killing machine and one of the strongest warriors in the world.

The only thing that hadn't been planned was the fact that, while he could use a magic ritual to go back in time - he ended up in a body absolutely ill-fitted for the job. In this case the body of a young aristocratic man (18 years old and the only son of a local regional lord) who was so spoiled and pampered he was massively obese with not an ounce of muscle in his body. This was of course a source of brutal and intense frustration for the protagonist, as he still had his intensive training, had knowledge of the most secret martial art techniques, and could kill almost any men on the spot if he wanted - but couldn't use his immense skills thanks to his useless and dangerously sick body.

This is why the first part of the manhwa is about him regaining a body that would fit his actual abilities and capacities, by undergoing harsh training to lose weight and build enough muscle. All the while hiding from everybody else his true knowledge of martial arts and his true levels of brutal fighting powers - so as to not blow the fact that he isn't the "Young Master" everybody knows and cherished, but a perfect stranger from the future who stole his body and his life.

There's also a whole thing, once he is passed the shock of his new body, where he actually has a true "cultural conflict" with the past, since everything in this time is much more peaceful, normal and idyllic, and him coming from a time of horrors and cruelty means he has a hard time adapting - he is notably quite in shock when he learns the city his "father" takes care of isn't poor enough to have beggars in it. And when he finally warms up to the fact that people are actually nice and that he leaves in a time of happiness, peace and abundance now, he considers maybe actually staying there once his mission is finished and enjoying his new "fat cat" existence, so to speak.

[mllemaenad]

The Magnus Protocol: Well Run

That was ... pretty blatant. Freddy basically did the old pantomime bit: "She's behind you!"

Okay, so: Sam and Celia are going to the theatre, and they are going to see The Pillowman. Now, I have not seen The Pillowman (as Sam suggests, theatre tickets are expensive), but it is a black comedy about a man who is arrested when the details of a series of murders appear to be drawn from the plots of his stories.

It seems a stretch to relate the whole plot, but there's a lot here about a fuzzy line between fiction and reality.

The most obvious connection there is Mr Bonzo: he's a character whose pranks, while disturbing from the get go, have now transitioned into brutal murders. However, Mr Bonzo is not in this story: an unnamed caterer is.

The story ends with the caterer discovering that Lady Mowbray is, in fact, right behind him, ready to conclude her hunt. At which point Celia discovers that Lady Mowbray is also right behind her, and perhaps ready to begin another. Fiction blends into reality, and Freddy uses the story to shout a warning.

And the thing about the caterer guy is that he had another life – another identity – and that life was violent and disturbing. It seems to have been a long time ago (he mentions having worked with his current crew "for years"), and he seems to have been actively distancing himself from it.

I've got a pin in this guy, too, as a possible member of Starkwall. Now, to be clear, he has definitely served in the military, and there is absolutely no reason a military man might not have had multiple roles. But the only thing he explicitly connects to his military service is a familiarity with cooking for the kind of people who fundamentally believe they are better than everyone around them.

I don’t know how else to describe her. This big, imposing, like – some Roman statue brought to life and given a gun. I kept thinking of my army days, cooking for the top brass. She had the same eyes, like they didn’t see people any more, just “assets” and “resistance.” – The Magnus Protocol: Well Run

His other assertions, about knowing how to kill, and what it feels like to face down a gun, are made entirely context free. And the caterer ran. My, did he run. He notes at the beginning that the event for the which this nightmare was the catalyst took place "a couple of months ago", and he's been evading his pursuers ever since. Lady Mowbray seems to be particular in her choice of prey – she had no interest in hunting the caterer's staff herself – and I am not sure I believe that just any military man would have suited her. There's a whiff of "infamous massacre" about this one.

And it goes back to the blur between fiction and reality, because this whole thing is a pretty straightforward allusion to The Most Dangerous Game, in which a bored, exiled aristocrat hunts men for sport. While the caterer is significantly less eloquent than Rainsford, it's hard not to see the similarity between the description of General Zaroff and Lady Mowbray:

Rainsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general's face. He was a tall man past middle age, for his hair was a vivid white; but his thick eyebrows and pointed military moustache were as black as the night from which Rainsford had come. His eyes, too, were black and very bright. He had high cheek bones, a sharp-cut nose, a spare, dark face, the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat. Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted, withdrew. – The Most Dangerous Game, Richard Connell

Although if I'm honest, right now my mental image of Lady Mowbray is "Audrey from To the Manor Born decides shooting her way back into the house is a socially acceptable move", and that is almost certainly not what they are going for here.

So if we're talking about stories, why is that relevant? Well, Lady Mowbray is fascinated by Celia.

Lady Mowbray My, we are an odd one, aren’t we? [She sniffs again, exhales.] Lady Mowbray And braver than we look. Celia (low, steady) You’re not allowed to be in here. Lady Mowbray I was invited. [The dogs’ growling intensifies.] Lady Mowbray A fine specimen… strong and… different… [Another inhale, exhale, slow] What is that…? – The Magnus Protocol: Well Run

And it is at least plausible, at the moment, that Celia herself is a character from a story. Specifically, she is a character from The Magnus Archives.

If she is that Celia, Lady Mowbray is right: she is indeed remarkable. She was one of only a handful of people to escape a torture chamber in a world run by eldritch gods, and live free. Granted, she had help, but that does not make her less unusual.

And if she is that Celia, that means she is also Lynne Hammond, a woman who was almost absurdly pragmatic about being haunted by a burning woman.

Lynne I mean… she burned me a bit. Martin Oh! Oh wow! Okay, er, like, are you okay? Did you – Lynne Oh. Martin Was there, was there a lot of damage? Are you – Is there…? Lynne No, no, no. It’s… er, just, just a few hairs. My right arm. I mean they, they’ve grown back. Martin Like, like a few hairs? So then… And then she disappeared and you…? Lynne I went back to sleep. [MARTIN GATHERS HIMSELF WITH A LONG INTAKE OF BREATH] Martin Right. Erm… And, well, then what happened? So, y’know, y’know, you’ve been burned by this, mys-mysterious ghost, so what did you do? Lynne I mean, I moved out. Martin And nothing… nothing since then? Lynne Well, no. I’ve, I’ve moved. – The Magnus Archives: I Guess You Had to Be There

In that case, Celia, like the caterer, has another identity she has left behind her. And while she is no killer (as far as we know), she is very much a survivor. I mean – what do you even do with that? The lady faced down a burning ghost and then went back to sleep.

Of course that's all speculation. Celia could be someone else entirely. But even if that is so, I think it is still true that she has left some life behind her.

Celia And before you ask, no, there’s no dad on the scene, not even sure who he is. I had a… couple of wild years after I moved here. It was a really weird time for me, but somehow I got lucky enough to come out of it all with him. – The Magnus Protocol: Futures

There's a story in all that – one she has not told all of yet. Lady Mowbray wants to hunt, sure, but her particular interest seems to be in bringing people's pasts back to haunt them.

But if the episode's case is directed at Celia, Alice is nevertheless the main character of this one.

There's a ... lot going on there, and it's almost hard to track which pieces fit with which others. There's a lot of watery imagery even before we get to the point of the matter: Luke's bands are called "Dredgerman" and "Penny for the Well", and the beer they order, Doom Bar, which is apparently real (I know nothing about beer except that it tastes revolting), draws its name from a treacherous sandbar that was apparently cursed by a pissed off mermaid.

The most obvious connection to all of this is Marked, although it's hard to tell if this is a power-themed manifestation (something is into drowning), or if this is more directly related to Ink5oul's tattoo-related grave robbery. Alice doesn't mention tattoos – not on her brother and not on the victim, but that's hardly conclusive as she clearly has other things on her mind.

None of that is what really interests me, though. I'm more interested in the meta level of how these stories are told. And there are two here, even if one is short and bleak: the tale of the caterer on the run, and the tale of the drowning victim's last gasp.

Because this goes back to the nature of stories again.

The first interesting thing is the tape recorder. Because the tape recorder is a choice. Alice is there, with her phone, and whoever is listening does not use that. It can use Alice's phone – it does in the scene with her brother – but just now it isn't recording Alice. It's recording the drowning victim, and Alice happens to be there. And for that, it pulls out a tape recorder. So why for this?

The second thing is the way the stories are told. Both narrators are astonishingly coherent, and this is especially true for the victim, who in theory had too much water in her lungs to even talk.

Now, obviously this is how these stories work. I believe at least some inspiration for the style was drawn from M R James, so there's nothing surprising in the use of that particular style, with a lot of incidental details included by the narrator to set the scene and build up to the horror over time.

However: a) not all stories in The Magnus Protocol are like that, with some taking a more fragmented format, as they're told through emails or forum posts and b) there was eventually an in universe explanation for why people in The Magnus Archives talked like that – the Archivist was able to draw out their stories.

There's no direct connection between the way the two characters tell their stories: the caterer seems to be using a tip-off line for a newspaper, and the drowning victim is talking to a tape recorder that shouldn't be there.

But both find a voice to tell their tale that they really should not have. Not in their current circumstances. You see it in Futures, as well: Darrien starts out with a completely expected angry customer rant. But after a little bit, he drops into that habit of telling his life's story, of all the context that brought him to this point. He was talking to a support line.

So ... it's the tech. That power that John had, and Gertrude before him, it's in the tech. And not just in one app or phone or spooky tape recorder. It seems to be in everything. And it's powerful enough that it can compel a dead woman to speak.

That's interesting.

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

El camaleón desaparecido - Encanto au

TW: mentions of manipulation, character death, scars, angst, and just overall being mean/horrible to a child. (child abduction maybe?)

Main themes/inspiration - Anastasia, Cinderella, Snow white, Hunchback of Notre dame, and Rapunzel.

The story starts out with Camilo being born a prince to the magical Madrigal family. It was his fifth birthday and ceremony day. Things were going wonderfully as expected to be. Camilo was exploring his gift and having fun with his friends/family at the same time. Nothing could make this moment more perfect.

But…good things can never last. Right under the ruler's nose, a small but big group of Encanto’s citizens decided that today was the day to storm the castle and get rid of the madrigals. 

You see, at first there was a small rumor that went around. A rumor that instead of using Pedro’s Miracle, Alma was using witchcraft and managed to give her children gifts. Why would Pedro just give his family magic when everyone was forced to leave their home AND lost people they loved? 

That’s just downright selfish and Pedro was known as a good man in his life. Surely, he would have given everyone manage to give everyone magic right? So, Alma must be using witchcraft or keeping the magic all to herself.  And soon, this rumor turned into another rumor. A rumor that the Madrigals were soon going to use their powers against the good people of Encanto and make them their slaves. 

One thing led to another, and paranoia started rising amongst the people of Encanto. Selfish witches what they “are”. One day, a very jealous villager decided to pull a stunt on Isabela’s tenth birthday (a year before Camilo’s). A man who knew his way around smoke bombs,  disappearing acts, and makeup. 

Let’s just say he spouted a lot of nonsense but simultaneously striking a little bit of fear in people. Before guards could catch him he released a smoke bomb and disappeared without a trace. 

And now, on December 28th, 1780, El Castillo de los Madrigal was being raided by foul people. The guards could only keep so many people at bay before they burst through and were out for Madrigal blood.…So much happened that day. So much innocent blood shed and brutal harm given to those who didn’t deserve it. 

In the end…some Madrigals didn’t make it out alive. But after much fighting and blood spilling, the guards and many friends/distant relatives of the Madrigals, managed to kill or prison all those accountable for going against the queen. (But this took a whole lot of effort)

But…one child was unaccounted for…Camilo. No one could find him. They searched the castle and the village all over and…he just wasn’t there. Someone surely took him, and judging by what happened, he was surely killed and dumped somewhere by one of those hateful villagers. 

But in reality…he ran away. He was a five year old boy who didn’t understand what was going on, he just knew this was wrong and he was scared. And these weird scary looking people that he didn’t know were trying to catch him (and stranger danger wasn’t an unfamiliar thing in la casa madrigal).  The party had been going on outside of the castle (think of a large garden area). And the closest thing he could run to was the forest. So that’s where he went. He ran far, as far as he could. 

To the point where he slipped and fell into a fast deep river. The river led to a huge waterfall where he fell down and hit his head on a rock at the bottom. By the time he woke up…he was in an unfamiliar room and had no clue who he was. 

Camilo was adopted by a woman named Gabriela Alcarez. She has two daughters named Marcela and Emilia. Gabriela is a mix of  Lady Tremaine and Mother Gothel, and the daughters are obviously Anastasia and Drizella. Gabriela is 54, Marcela is eighteen, and Emilia is sixteen (both girls by two different men). 

Gabriella makes Camilo do all the housework; Dishes, mopping, sweeping, mending of clothes, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She has her own way of making Camilo think she’s making him do all of those things out of love. 

“Mi baby, you do all of these things so you can be a great husband one day. All men do these things out of love for their mothers, sisters, and wives. You do love us don’t you?”

She always buys the girls nice things and has Camilo make his own clothes. “A real man is resourceful” type bullsh!t. He’s also never allowed passed the mansion gates. 

“It’s too scary and people will do anything to get their hands on a resourceful boy like you” type bs as well. Not to mention she’ll make him think he’s “too ugly” to be seen out in the world. People will “laugh and throw things” at him. Why? He has a scar from the top of his forehead, across his right eye, and down to the tip of his jaw. 

He also has another scar on the left side of his scalp but it’s covered by hair. But why would she tell him he’s learning to be a husband but he’s too ugly to be seen by the public? 

“Don’t worry mijo, I’ll find a girl who’ll love you for your…other better qualities”

His room is in a literal tower. His sisters get a pretty big room with big windows while he gets a tight, cramped, room with a very small window. 

Even through all that, he still tries being himself and happy. He reads fairy tale books, shakespeare, paints, makes his own clothes from his sisters old dresses (think ragged boho and scrap patches). He’s still easy going and chill but his mischievous tendencies are suppressed to keep his mother and sisters happy. 

His room is very colorful though. Beautiful scenes of different fairy tales painted on the walls. 

Camilo does have a few pets. Two mice, a chicken, three horses, and a chameleon who he actively does talk to. (I mean, who else is he going to talk to? People? ). The mice are Dulce and Ricardo. The horses are Elena, Joaquin, and Andres. The chicken is Chickpea, and the chameleon is Princesa (reference to midcanto). 

Gabriella is fully aware that he’s a madrigal, that’s why she keeps him deep in the forest in her large family mansion. When it comes to occasional visitors, Camilo is told to either stay in his room or clean somewhere far enough in the mansion where the visitor(s) doesn’t see him. 

He is allowed outside but never passes the garden gates. It’s a long, wide, and pretty garden. Full of flowers of all types. There are specific ones that draw Cami to them, more so because of the colors. Magenta, green, orange, teal, dark navy blue, purple/pink, and red specifically. 

But don't most fairy tale books have evil stepmoms? Surely he would’ve figured this behavior isn’t normal. 

The boy only has the book of Mulan, Brave, the frog prince, The little mermaid, sleeping beauty, and others that don’t include evil stepmothers. Gabriella may be evil, but she isn’t stupid. She’s not going to give her servant ideas of revolt/rebellion through books of all things. 

The three women often go to fabulous balls while Camilo stays at home. The most he asks for is just the details; the dancing, gowns, food, people, etc. And all three of them tell him everything he wants to know, but it’s more like bragging or “I’ll tell you everything that YOU will never be able to do” kind of way. 

Gabriela told him that once he turns eighteen, he’ll be able to go out someday. But she knows he’ll never want to because of how “ugly” he is. He’s too dependent on her “love” because he thinks no one else will love him. 

I need ideas for this au so feel free to ask questions or send in suggestions!

[asterashley]

i love Ian Malcolm from jurassic park

this is not a character or movie analysis this is just me posting about a character i love again, there is no order or reason to this post, i just rewatched the first movie and he is such a little gremlin of a man while also being the sanest person in the room somehow that i just gotta. like he cant go five minutes without causing some sort of trouble but he's right about it.

he barely gets to be on screen before he starts laughing/growling at the same time like an idiot after asking in Alan and Ellie dig up dinosaurs. John starts to talk about how he's never been able to explain why he thinks the park is dangerous and Ian just goes for the little knee grab move where you dont know if youre meant to laugh or cry when it happens to you.

when Genaro says "things are a lot different than we had feared," implying the park is not so bad and all he has to say is "yeah, it's worse." the part about Hammond wielding genetic power like a kid with his fathers gun is really true once you see the whole movie, about how the power Hammond has wasn't earned with discipline, about how JP as a whole doesn't approach the genetic reconstruction with responsibility because most of it was someone elses work first.

"your scientist were so preoccupied with whether they could that they didnt stop to think if they should" is pretty much the premise of this entire franchise now. then John brutally misses the point and says Ian would have no problem if he were making condors rather than dinosaurs but Ian just isnt having it. he's a firm believer in just letting the world do its thing, comparing what the people at JP are doing to "the rape of the natural world." (which yuck i wish i didnt have to type that)

then the streak of bad luck with the dinosaurs no-showing, which is just a thing that can happen at a safari park zoo thing whatever JP has going on and he starts tapping at the camera going "you uh, you do plan to have dinosaurs on your dinosaur tour, right? hello? hello hello?" then hissing at the camera and sitting back in his seat all proud of himself or whatever. starts talking about the essence of chaos and how the Rex doesnt follow any park schedules, doing a little dance too.

the entire scene for the rex breakout, where he starts with "boy do i hate being right all the time" before the rex attacks the car with the kids in it and Alan goes to distract it where he shows a different side of himself, almost dying getting eaten by the rex to protect kids he doesnt know and i get the vibe he kind of doesnt like either.

the next time we see him, buried in the destroyed toilet hut asking Ellie and Muldoon to "remind me to thank John for a lovely weekend" then they bring him to the jeep then he hears/feels the stomps of the rex coming back and kicks into full panic, which to be fair he did almost just get eaten. "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, we gotta get outta here, gotta get outta here, now. NOW, RIGHT NOW, go, go, go, let's go" before he lets out this silly little "heeyyy" all the while motioning for the other two to get to the car and GTFO.

of course after getting injured he kinda leaves the movie's spotlight so here just a list of other little quotes i love but have nothing to say about - "i refuse to believe that you aren't familiar with the concept of attraction" - "do you just go about looking up dinosaur skirts?" - "hand flat like you're a hieroglyphic" - "now here i am talking to myself, that's chaos" - "that is one big pile of shit" - "i'm always on the lookout for a future ex-mrs. Malcolm" - "but John, when the pirates of the carribean breaks down the pirates don't eat the tourists"

and of course yes it is partially just because i love seeing hot men lie about with their shirt ripped open.

[ijustwant2write]

Runaway-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @dialnfornoir​)

Masterlist

Summary: On her brisk walk home, (Y/N) witnesses a brutal Peaky Blinder attack, attempting to run away when Finn Shelby comes after her, only to sweep her off her feet.

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name 

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Violence, fighting, blood, fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Come on (Y/N), not even one drink? We won't even make you stay, just the one!" my friend moaned as I denied their proposal of going to the Garrison.

"You said that last time, and I ended up staying until early hours." I laughed.

They all put their hands together as they started begging. I also laughed at this, embarrassed by the attention that was suddenly on us.

"No, seriously. I have to be good with money this month. Thanks to you lot, I'm having to be frugal for the rent."

They sighed."Fine, we won't make you come. But you will be missed. Just get home safe, OK?"

"I will. You too, please don't get too drunk and end up sleeping outside."

"That was one time!"

I shook my head as we giggled, waving goodbye when I turned to walk home. We had just finished work, so it was still relatively light out; I would say it was less dangerous to walk alone, but we did live in Small Heath. Yawning after the long, boring shift, I adjusted my coat around me, trying to keep warm. All I wanted was a good dinner, get cleaned up and snuggle into bed, maybe read a few chapters of the book I had if my eyelids could stay open. I was only in my early twenties and already feeling like an old woman.

Home wasn't far, a good twenty minute walk, which could be a bad thing if it was raining, a lovely stroll if not. I lived in the better part of Small Heath (if there even was one), walking home from work had never been an issue. Until I heard the unfamiliar sounds of desperate begging and crying, as well as thumps and slaps of skin of skin contact. My eyes widened, heart beat accelerating when I realised someone was begging for their life. There was no other way home for me, I had to take this route. What I should have done was turn around to join my friends for that drink, but the natural human tendency to be curious took over. As I cautiously continued my way home, I couldn't help but glance down the alleyway behind a row of houses, spotting four young boys surrounding an older man, who looked like he was being beaten to a pulp by one of them. I froze, having never seen a brawl like this up close. It was as if I were delayed, somehow taking ages to register that I had to leave before they spotted me.

Unfortunately one of their heads snapped up to look at me, tapping his friends on the shoulder, pointing at me as he shouted for them to stop. My legs still wouldn't move, staring at the man who's face was soaked red with his own blood. It wasn't until one of the young men started approaching me that I sprinted away, suddenly terrified about what could happen to me.

I cursed myself for being such a bad runner, as well as the shoes I was wearing. My lungs were working incredibly hard, my throat drying up whilst my mind panicked as it tried to remember which way was home. I let out a scream as the boy grabbed me, crying out in pain when they pushed me against the brick wall. Attempting to scramble out of their hold was useless, they were pushing their whole weight on me, I had no escape.

"(Y/N)?" he said my name.

My eyes widened, realising who had a hold of me. It was Finn Shelby.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? We went to school together. You might not remember me, but we definitely did."

"Of course I remember you! You're Finn fucking Shelby.”

"Oh right."

"Please don't hurt me."

He looked confused."Hurt you? Why would I do that?"

"Well, you're currently pinning me against a wall, and I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe if I'm honest."

He glanced down, quickly pushing himself away from me. I tried to hide getting my breath back, letting out a quick cough. It seemed he wasn't going to hurt me, and he wasn't being sadistic about that phrase either.

"I'm sorry. You alright?"

I slowly nodded, still wanting to be on the safe side.

"I remember you from school. Obviously changed a lot, though I have seen you from time to time."

"Right."

"Look, uh, what you saw back there, I need you to forget it."

"Finn," I was scared to say his name but I did anyway,"you almost killed him."

"You know I'm a Peaky Blinder, right?"

"How could I not? And are you trying to justify what you did?"

"(Y/N), he ran a brothel using children."

"Oh."

"I mean, you couldn't have known that, so I can see how that looks from a different perspective."

"Well, I totally agree with your actions then."

"I still need you to keep quiet about the whole thing."

"Um, of course."

"Where were you headed?"

This was the longest conversation I had ever had with Finn, with a Peaky Blinder. I briefly remember him as a child, you never do have specific memories at such a young age, though I probably played with him during break time.

"Home."

"Let me walk you."

"No, honestly it's fine, it's not far."

"I insist. Part of my apology for scaring you earlier."

"Part of your apology?"

"Yeah, I'm taking you out for drinks tomorrow."

I started thinking I might have been in a dream."Sorry?"

"Do you always act this surprised at what people say? A catch up drink."

"That's alright, really, if you're trying to make it up to me-"

"Come on, just one?"

It was like deja vu.

"If you're busy tomorrow, we can always go tonight. Yeah, you know what? Let's do that instead!"

"No, Finn, really I'm fine."

"I won't take no. Please, it'll be nice, I promise all I'm asking for is a drink."

I felt obligated to go, still in a bit of shock from what happened. But my friends were at the Garrison, if they saw me with Finn they would think I was ditching them, and what would it look like for me to be walking in with a Shelby?! However, I felt bad when I saw how happy Finn was; and even if he tried anything later I would undoubtedly slap him, I wasn't afraid of that (I tried to convince myself). When I agreed, his smile grew even bigger, instantly heading towards the pub.

I was trying to focus on what he was babbling on about, only my mind was preoccupied with the dreaded stares of my friends. That was one fo the worst things you could do as a girl, ditch your friends for a boy. Then there would be questions about how I met him, why didn't I tell them, why didn't I bring him along to drinks etc. I'd look like any other desperate girl that tried to cling onto the arm of any Shelby, desperate for a taste of the dangerous, gangsta life, even if it was just for one night.

As we walked in, I felt sick, immediately spotting my friends on their usual table they always tried to grab. They hadn't seen me yet, so I attempted to hide behind Finn, keeping my head down as we stood at the bar.

Finn was served first before anyone else."Whiskey Harry, and you?"

"Um, wine please."

"Just put them through the window, yeah?"

I was confused when we walked to the private room, it felt like I was trespassing. Though this gave me a good hiding place from my friends, chancing to glance back at them before disappearing. They still hadn't seen me.

Finn casually sat down, looking relaxed. I stood, not sure whether to join him, which was a stupid thing to think when he had invited me.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" he chuckled.

I said nothing as I sat down opposite him, not wanting to become trapped in the booth with him. I still wasn't sure what to say once seated, hating that this could become awkward at any second.

"Are you OK? You seem a bit shaken up still." he asked.

"I'm fine." I squeaked out, knowing he could see right through me.

"You're all nervous, what's wrong?" he smirked.

I sighed."My friends are out there."

"Oh, well go tell them to join us."

"No!" I snapped too quickly."Look, I said no to drinks earlier, hence why I was on my way home, and I was scared what they would think or feel if they saw me waltz in with you."

"Don't want to be seen with a Blinder?"

"No, just didn't want them to think I chose a boy over my friends."

He gave me a pointed look.

"And I guess it would seem strange if I suddenly walked back in with a Blinder."

"Why did you say no in the first place?"

"Because money is tight. That was another reason I was hesitant to come, honest."

"You're not paying (Y/N)."

"Oh, Finn-"

"No, because I literally get this stuff for free." the small window into the room opened."Speaking of."

He reached over and grabbed our drinks, handing mine to me before clinking the glasses together. Unlike Finn, who threw the whole drink back, I sipped on my wine, and god was it good. He slammed the glass back down onto the table, letting out a satisfied breath.

"So what have you been up to since school?"

"Well, I've got a job at this clothes shop, you might have passed it but we only deal with women’s clothing, so I doubt you’ve been in. Uh, I actually started there as a shop assistant after I left school, you know, running errands and doing the little things no one else wanted to do. Then they started giving me proper jobs, I’m also a book keeper now and-” I glanced at Finn, realising that I was rambling,“-sorry, I’m talking too much.”

“No, no you’re not.” he chuckled, waving a hand in the air.

“Long story short, I work in a clothes shop. What about you?”

I closed my eyes as soon as I finished my sentence, wincing at my stupidity.

“I didn’t mean, I wasn’t trying to be smart or pry, obviously I know...no I don’t know...”

“You’re cute when you stumble over your words.”

I wasn’t expecting that.“E-excuse me?”

Before things could get any more awkward, the door opened, making us both jump. I felt my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach when I saw who it was, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me; his brothers were here.

“What the fuck are you doing in here Finn boy?”Arthur asked (if you didn’t know all their names, you had to be incredibly simple).

“Failing to get another bird in your bed?” John smirked.

“Shut up John.” Finn spat.“This is (Y/N), she’s an old friend from school.”

They filtered in. John scoffed.“Surprised you remember anything about school. Have you asked him what five pus five is?”

John and Arthur laughed as they sat down opposite us, Thomas standing besides the window for the drinks. I clasped my hands together as they started to shake out of nerves. I was in a room with the Shelby brothers, the men who ran one of the most feared gangs in England, and I had no clue what to do with myself. 

“Um, I think I should go.” I pathetically mumbled out.

“Don’t be rude Finn,” Thomas said,“show the lovely, young lady out.”

Finn was glaring at his brothers as we stood. I slowed down my steps so I didn’t appear to be running away from them. Finn opened the door for me, and I felt weightless as soon as I stepped out of that room. He followed me out, running a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re just being their usual stupid selves.” he apologised.

“It’s alright, really. Don’t tell them they bothered me or anything because they really didn’t.”

“You don’t have to worry. They won’t do anything to you because we had a drink together.”

“Sorry, just not used to...”

“Meeting a gangster?”

I hummed in agreement.“Yeah.”

“Look, I definitely need to go back in there. But I liked this. Apart from how we bumped into each other.”

“Yes, that could have been different.”

“I would like to do this again though.”

“You would?”

“There you go again, acting all surprised. How about this weekend?”

“I-I’m free this weekend.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.” he smiled at me, turning to go back into the private room before calling the bartender.“Oh, Harry, another wine for my friend.”

He winked at me, then disappeared into the room. I heard heckling and teasing from his brothers. I could feel that my cheeks were heating up from blushing, though I also couldn’t help but smile. Thanking the bartender for the wine, I quickly took it, freezing when I saw my friends staring at me. Sighing, I took a big gulp of the drink before making my way towards them. This was going to be a longer night than I thought.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (5)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), human rights violations, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Okay okay. I’m finally happy with how this turned out. Goddamn that’s a lot of words. I’ll see you all in the party in the comments and reblogs! I love reading what you think. Don’t be shy. Jump in!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

[gif not mine. credit to: this glorious gif post.]

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:5 Lemons

2 missions.

A 50/50 chance of getting Salvacion.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were on the verge of getting lightheaded from the anticipation. A decade of chasing this bastard and this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. The man was not only deadly in skill, but always seemed to manage to give you the slip every single time. Forcing yourself to face the life you left was worth it if it meant finally avenging Lily.

The briefings the past week had been long, but they were important to make sure everyone was prepared to end this. You were minutes away now from shipping off to the mission and your whole body was buzzing.

This was it.

There were two locations that you had to hit at the same time. Two locations with large shipments that you had to stop from reaching its destination. The teams needed to be split.

"Let's go over this one more time," Steve started, fully suited up in black that was truly a far cry from his old blue and red ensemble. "I'll be leading a team into the shipment yards with Bucky and Nem at the front. Sam will be on air support. Billy will manage a team of snipers in the surrounding area."

This was the smaller of locations, but with the larger shipment. The location itself entailed a more strategic approach. You weren't happy that there was a chance that Salvacion would be at the other location, but having Frank on that team put you somewhat at ease. He understood more than anyone how important this was to you and he promised he would take Salvacion alive. He was yours to kill.

Frank always kept his promises.

"I'll be leading the other team into the industrial district," Frank continued, his signature vest strapped tight across his chest. "Pietro and Matt will cover the perimeter and I'll be charging in with Nat and Wanda."

Their location was more complicated. It was too close to the residential district and the warehouses there ran 24/7. There was a high risk of civilian casualty if they weren't careful which was why almost everyone who was powered was assigned to that group. They needed every capability they could pull to make sure no innocent blood was spilled.

"Good," Steve nodded. "We'll both have a group of agents with us too. They've been briefed and are prepping transport as we speak. We leave in 20 minutes."

Everyone nodded their understanding, grabbing their gear and heading down to the transport docks. There was a fleet of cars standing by that would be used, gassed up and ready to go. Your hands were drumming repeatedly on your vest, itching to just get on the road. Frank and Matt lingered with you before they joined the rest of their group.

The towering marine stepped up close to you and tightened the buckles of your bulletproof vest, wishing you would have accepted the offer of better gear from the Avengers but also knowing it was hypocritical of him when he declined as well.

It just wasn't your style.

It was his own damn fault for training you in his own combat style. He had no doubt of your capability, but still he worried about you. He always worried about you and he felt a sense of responsibility toward you after finding you tortured within an inch of your life.

"Stay close to Steve, sweetheart."

You snorted, but a glance back at Steve who was already looking at you with a raised eyebrow made you grumble and relent. "Fine."

"Good girl," Frank chuckled, before leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips as he held you by the buckles of your vest. You smiled into the kiss, feeling the steady protection and reassurance that he always brings.

He stepped away for Matt to get his turn. This was a tradition that just developed naturally between the four of you. A kiss before danger. A promise to keep safe. A promise to come home.

Matt took your face in both hands and kissed the breath out of you as if he was trying to outdo Frank. It wasn't uncommon. He was always more aggressive with his affections, always as if he was scared you might suddenly slip away from his life and you were happy to reassure him every time that you weren't going anywhere. He chuckled when you bit his lip, beating him to it. He gave you one more peck before stepping aside.

Billy came closer to your side and slung his arm around your shoulders, chuckling as he nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. It was amusing him to no end at how easily you were folding for Steve. It was a nice change of pace from the three of them never being able to deny you anything.

Most especially Billy.

"We're definitely keeping Steve around. I think I like you compliant," he snickered, turning your head toward him with a finger under your chin. He planted a quick chaste peck on your lips. Your eyebrows quirked at the unusual behavior.

"What you're not gonna try to outdo me too?" Frank teased.

"Nem knows I do my best kissing elsewhere. Don't you, pretty girl?" Billy winked at you and you rolled your eyes. You smacked him in the chest but didn’t comment further. He wasn't wrong, but he was smug enough as it is.

You were about to turn toward the cars when you were knocked back slightly to the side by a sudden peck to your cheek. You couldn't stop the laugh when you caught Pietro's grin before he vanished again, a subtle warmth spreading in your chest. You were still smiling when you took your seat beside Steve who intertwined your hand with his and raised it to his lips, smiling that soft boyish smile against your skin that now made your stomach flip. He didn't let go of your hand throughout the ride, even as he caught Bucky's yearning gaze in the rearview mirror.

You were greeted by an ambush.

Somehow the syndicates knew that you would be coming, setting up a small army as your welcome party. A quick distress call through the comms from Frank confirmed that they were facing the same in their location.

But you couldn't focus on that.

You were too busy tearing through the goons that kept coming at you. Having two super soldiers and Sam in the thick of it with you was a blessing, but even with the other agents and Billy's sniper support you were severely overrun. You would just have to trust that the other team can handle their own.

You emptied the clips of your pistols as you trudged your way deeper into the fray, not bothering to duck or take cover from the onslaught of angry men. You tossed your empty guns to the side and drew out another, catching a few bullets in your vest.

No time to reload.

"I got you, Hedwig. Give 'em hell," Billy said in your ear.

The deadly smirk on your lips was the only warning the men in front of you got. You charged again as the adrenaline coursed through your body, bullets flying precisely into their skulls.

One. Two. Three. Four men down.

When your bullets ran out, you dropped the gun and pulled out two daggers. Your eyes narrowed as you took off into a sprint toward the closest target, weaving effortlessly through the oncoming fire.

A slice to the forearm to disarm.

A dagger up the chin.

Dead.

He dropped to the ground spluttering on his blood as you took the other dagger and sent it flying toward another's chest.

Dead.

Rough muscular arms caught you by surprise and gripped you from behind, caging you as you struggled. You saw the gun in his hand and reacted.

Break the wrist to disarm.

You smirked at the loud pop of his bones. You grabbed the gun before it dropped to the ground as you slipped a knife from your vest. The pain in his wrist caused him to loosen his hold on you, allowing you to turn to face him.

Blade to the gut.

Bullet to the face. Point blank.

Dead.

You didn't even flinch when his blood splattered across your face, joining the explosion of red already painting your figure. You could make out two more in your peripheral who dropped to the ground before they could advance on you, care of your guardian angel with a sniper rifle.

"Thank you, Blackbird," you said sweetly.

"Goddamn, doll," Bucky said, Steve stood beside him mirroring the same look of equal awe and fear.

This was the first time they had seen you in action. Hearsay and that little demo with Kim did nothing to prepare them for the sheer brutality you had when given the clear purpose to kill. You didn't hesitate. You didn't waste time. You didn't care that you were drenched in blood. You had a goal and you were going to meet it every time with ruthless violence.

This was who you were now.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Steve came up to you looking worried after seeing you charging headlong at open gunfire.

He didn't like it. At least he had a shield. Skilled as you were, he didn't like that you were running every mission like you had a death wish. There was so much blood on you that it was difficult for him to tell if any of it was yours.

"None of the blood is mine," you dismissed, wiping your face with what was the only clean part of your sleeve. "Let's go. I hear more up ahead and Sam said that's where the shipment is."

Rounding the corner, you were faced with another cluster of goons with weapons aimed at your small group. They stood a good distance away in front of two shipping containers that were being readied for transport. Sam landed beside you along with a group of agents. Bucky pushed you behind him and Steve raised his shield to cover you both. Billy chirped in the comms that the snipers had repositioned and were ready. All of that barely registered with you, white noise against the rage that was brewing, because behind enemy lines was the goal you've been chasing for a decade.

Salvacion.

"I have to say," he drawled. His voice, the first you're hearing of now, sending a chill down your spine. "I expected more from the Avengers. You didn't even bring Iron Man. I'm disappointed."

"Give up the serum," Steve growled.

"No. I don't think I will," he answered. "Kill them all."

All hell broke loose once more; fists, bullets, knives, and a shield flying in every direction. Bucky and Steve kept close to you, shielding you from most of the shots as you advanced. You gunned down every bastard you saw but your eyes never strayed from Salvacion who was just standing there watching the clash.

Taunting you.

Something nagged at the back of your head as you fought. It was unusual for the syndicates to be deploying this many people to a single location even if it was for the serum. While you were thanking every god you knew for luckily drawing Salvacion on this mission, his presence was also peculiar. Something else was going on.

Something else was here.

The syndicates were pushing back on your team hard, but you were making a dent in their numbers. When you saw Salvacion start walking away, that was when you felt the panic stir in your mind.

"I can't let him get away, Steve!"

You ignored his and Bucky's calls for you as you made a mad dash straight through the fight, efficiently shooting and stabbing anyone who dared get in your path. You were consumed with the purpose of reaching him, of finally being able to end it all.

You left the larger fight behind you in favor of this more personal one, the noise receding as you chased him farther. You caught a glimpse of him making his way up stacked containers and you sped up your run. You didn't even think twice about climbing the height. Nevermind potential broken bones. Nevermind getting cornered. Nevermind that you had no backup.

Salvacion would die today.

When you reached the top, you were surprised to see him standing there waiting for you but also that he wasn't alone. You raised your gun to match the one he was aiming at you, but he merely tutted and smirked. His other hand also had a gun, this one aimed up the chin of the person he was holding captive in front of him.

Kim.

The amount of irritation this woman was bringing into your life was starting to get on your nerves. She was delegated on your team for this mission and you stifled the aggravated groan as you noticed that she was bleeding heavily from both shoulders causing her to not be able to fight back.

Top agent my ass.

"Hello, Nemesis," Salvacion grinned at you. "Or should I call you Y/N? Much more personal given our history, don't you think?"

Your name on his lips caused a wave of nausea and a sneer to grace your lips. You raised your gun higher, narrowing your eyes as his own pressed harder against Kim's skin. It wasn't an idle threat.

"Nice of you to show up for once. Was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"Come now. Don't you enjoy our little game of cat and mouse?"

A game.

This was all a game to him and the malevolent smile on his face confirmed that. The fury in you burned, almost making you physically shake. Killing Lily was nothing to him while it had completely consumed your life. It had become your driving force while to him you were merely entertainment.

"You're going to let me go," he declared, fully confident.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he dragged out. "Or else your teammate here will die."

"What makes you think I give a shit?" you scoffed. "Go ahead."

The way Kim's eyes widened in terror brought a sick sense of pleasure in you that you shouldn't be proud of. Salvacion let out a low laugh, amusement clear in his tone.

"Oh, dear child. No matter how much spite you wrap yourself with, you are the same naive hero wannabe you always were," he snickered. "Self-sacrificing. Even at the expense of your sister."

"You don't talk about Lily, you bastard!" you screamed, your grip shaking slightly on your weapon.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe and your heartbeat was hammering in your ears. You didn't expect that finally facing him, hearing him talk about Lily like she was inconsequential, would shake you to your core. This was what you have been waiting for. This was what you have been building up to for the past decade. This was your purpose for living.

What were you waiting for?

"I am feeling generous today. Consider it my gift to commemorate our first official meeting," he said.

"What the fuck are you on?" you growled.

"Open the containers," he smiled. "See you soon, Y/N."

He abruptly tossed Kim to the side, pushing her off the ledge of the containers you were on and bolted away with a mad cackle. You shot at his retreating figure, desperately trying to aim through the turbulent emotions he inspired in you. You were going to chase after him when a yelp of pain caught your attention.

Kim was hanging by one hand off the edge, obviously struggling to hold herself up with her busted shoulders. You were too high up for her to survive the fall and she was too injured to help herself. Her grip was slipping.

"Y/N! Help me please!"

A dark shadow passed through your features. Saving her would mean Salvacion would definitely escape. Again. You didn't know if you would ever get another chance at him or when that would be.

You didn't like this woman. You never did. She tormented your youth, took joy in it even and as you reunited nothing changed. She was the same egotistic bully she always was. This was a dangerous mission. People die in the line of fire.

It happens. No one would blame you.

"Please!"

"Fuck!"

You dropped your weapon and clasped both hands on hers to pull her up. You strained with the effort, Kim being a deadweight adding to the struggle. You let go when half her body was safely on top, her legs swinging up to roll herself flat onto the surface. She was crying and whimpering from the fear and pain. You couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface.

You slapped her face.

"Get your goddamn shit together," you roared at her. "I don't have time for this. Call for evac, princess."

You ran toward the sound of helicopter blades, jumping onto crates and jolting your bones at the impact. You didn't care. The renewed rage had steadied you, calmed you almost to the point that the only thing you could see in your mind was taking him out. You had faltered and you would beat yourself up about that later, but you couldn't let him slip away again.

The helicopter was already starting to take off, Salvacion clearly visible through the open door. You cocked your gun and fired away. Empty. You slipped another gun out and fired. Empty. You kept running toward him, drawing and firing every last bullet you had as you screamed your frustration with every shot that missed.

You noticed that you managed to get a few through him by the way his body jerked. You were feeling optimistic until he reached around and pulled out a rocket launcher. You saw the sinister grin before he fired.

"Nem!" You heard your name being called, but you were too stunned by the horrible realization that you had failed today. You watched the helicopter slowly make it's way farther and farther behind the rocket that was hurtling toward you.

Even if you ran, the area of impact would still tear right through you. You were frozen in place, unable to process that this was how it would end. That it would end in you dying by his hand as well. That it would end without you making it up to Lily.

Your internal struggle was interrupted by a large body completely engulfing yours. The impact of the rocket threw you both to the ground and the loud explosion accompanied by ripping metal deafened your ears.

You struggled with your vision, the ringing in your head was painful and your body sore from crashing down. Oddly, your skull itself didn't feel injured. All of the pain seemed to be concentrated on your torso. You blinked a few times to focus the blur of your eyes as the repeated chanting of your name became louder.

"Are you okay, doll? Answer me, Nem! Come on."

"Bucky?"

Your sight finally focused to find that it was the brunette super soldier on top of you, covering you from what would have certainly been your death. The dread on his face gave way to a tired relief at you finally responding.

He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. You noticed now that he was wincing and that his flesh arm was underneath you, supporting your back and cradling your head. His metal arm was detached, a mangled mess of forcibly severed wires and metal plates sticking out from his shoulder. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Bucky, your arm," you started to struggle underneath him, knowing he must be in a world of pain.

He shushed you by rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Your eyes met icy blue ones and you saw him smile weakly, as if telling you it was worth it. He wouldn't hesitate to catch a missile with his arm again if it meant protecting you.

The rest of the boys reached you shortly after, Sam took Bucky and informed you that evac and medics were here. You were still in shock from what just happened. Billy took you gingerly in his arms, endlessly fussing at you and apologizing for not being able to do more even if you understood it was impossible for him to have tracked you through the chaos. Steve stood to the side, obviously furious at himself for not going to you even if you understood it was only right that he led the main fight.

Your body felt like it had gone through a war and you were too emotionally distressed to address anything else. You felt defeated. You felt at a loss. You failed Lily again today. Suddenly, you remembered what he told you.

His gift.

"Steve, Salvacion told me to open the shipments. He said it was a gift from him."

You didn't wait for them to respond, dragging your battered body limping across the yard to the crates. Billy recovered first, quickly jogging up to support your battered body straight with his. Steve followed closely behind, the uneasiness clouding the three of you. The locks were easily broken by Steve's shield and soon your gift was revealed.

What you saw drained the blood from all of you and caused your skin to immediately chill. It was the most sickening thing any of you have ever seen in your lives and that was saying something. How anyone could do this was beyond comprehension.

People. Dozens of people.

Crammed inside the steel box were dozens of people in various states of distress. All of them had barely any life left in them, barely sustained by the various IV bags hooked on their bodies. They hardly reacted when the doors were opened, too spent by what they had been made to go through to even blink. You suspected that a good portion of those who were not moving at all were dead. The smell was horrendous and this was coming from people who were about to be shipped to god knows where.

The horror you felt heightened to epic levels when you noticed that some of the drip bags held a different colored fluid, the distinct color of the super soldier serum. Then it clicked and the nausea finally overcame you. You poured your guts out onto the pavement, your stomach heaving violently as the truth made your vision spin.

Human testing.

Human experimentation.

And you had let the bastard escape.

Steve was going to approach you, clueless as he was on how to help you at that moment, but you had scrambled out of reach and ran out of the shipment yard. He called after you readying himself to go to you, but Billy's grip on his forearm stilled him.

"We're not who she needs right now, Cap," Billy shook his head. "Right now these people need us more."

"Where's she going?" Steve asked, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat and reluctantly agreeing.

"She'll be fine. Matt will find her."

Matt found you hours later. He had returned badly beaten and bruised from their own mission, but upon receiving word from Billy he pushed aside every painful injury he felt and rushed to where he knew he would find you. His chest tightened when he was told what you had seen. It was bad enough that you were carrying the guilt of your sister's death, but now you had the weight of all the lives that were victimized by these sick people too. It was too much for one person to bear.

He found you in the confession booth of the church on the corner of a quiet street and he couldn't see the broken look on your face when he opened the door, but he could feel it. He heard it in your unusually slow heartbeat, as if your organs were trying to give up. He heard it in the shallow breaths you took, as if the act of living was a betrayal in itself. He heard it in the cry that was begging to break through you throat. He could almost taste your despair.

He slowly knelt in front of you and pulled you urgently into his arms, squeezing himself into the tight space. He held you against him, clutching you tight and rocking you gently back and forth. This was an open secret shared between the two of you. When the darkness was overwhelming, you turned to each other and confessed. He pulled away after a long moment, cradling your face firmly in his palms. His thumbs brushed against your dry cheeks. Of course you hadn't been crying.

There were no more left to shed.

"Talk to me," he muttered, pressing his lips softly against yours.

"He experimented on a lot of people," you muttered. "And I let him go, Matty. I've been letting him carry on for ten years."

Your tone was almost a hoarse whisper, devoid of much emotion apart from a cold defeat. This worried him, but at least you were talking. You had known when you were being tortured that they Hydra hadn't perfected the serum. They kept torturing you in the hopes that they could get you to reveal anything about the formula, Steve and Bucky's abilities, or where samples of their blood were stored. You didn't talk.

Maybe you should have talked.

When the syndicates got their hands on the incomplete formula, they were faced with the same problem. A problem they apparently decided to solve by trial and error on actual people. You knew this. At the back of your mind you knew this, but it didn't register until you saw it for yourself tonight. Somehow you had ignored that fact because you had only been focused on your own grief.

"I let him go. I did this, Matty," you breathed, the guilt clear in your voice.

"No! You did not let him go. The bastard got away," he insisted. "And this is not your fault. I won’t let you think that this is your fault."

"No," you argued weakly. "I let him go. I had a shot at stopping him tonight and I didn't take it."

"Steve told me. You stopped to save Kim." The movement of his thumbs on your cheeks changed to soothing circles. "You stopped to save a teammate. That was a good thing."

You scoffed. "I wanted her to die."

"What?"

"For a solid moment as she was hanging on for her life, I wanted to let her die."

"She's alive now because of you, Nem. You fought it. You're strong. You didn't give into it."

"But what if that's what I need to do? If I did I could have ended Salvacion tonight."

You could have ended it all tonight.

Salvacion's words tonight plagued you. if you didn't try to play the hero then this whole twisted operation could have been stopped. If you didn't try to play the hero then you would have gotten your revenge for Lily. If you didn't play the hero then Lily wouldn't even be dead. You had wanted to save people so much, make a difference in the world, that you didn't stop and think about how that would impact the people you held most dear.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Matt asked cautiously, he knew more than anyone the struggle you faced. All of you were just a bad day away from completely snapping.

"I don't know," you admitted in defeat. You sounded so tired and confused that it broke his heart.

He held you for a moment more, waiting for your heart and breathing to return to normal. He didn't know what else to do or what else to tell you. He didn't know how to help you this time. Just then, he sensed the arrival of a Maximoff twin.

"Pietro's outside. I'll ask him to take you away for a while," he shook his head when he felt you were about to protest. "You need a break and you need some peace."

He led you outside, his pace slower than normal as your shoulders slumped lower to the ground in resignation. He exchanged a few words with Pietro before he pressed a kiss to your temple and pushed you toward the other man.

"Come with me, little star. I'll take care of you."

The next thing you knew, Pietro had lifted you into his arms and asked you to close your eyes. You buried your face into his neck as you felt the world around you dissolve in a blur, your hair whipped around but you weren't scared. The steady grip he had on you assured you that you would be safe. When he told you to open your eyes, you had no idea where you were or how long you had been traveling.

"Where are we?"

He gently set you on your feet as you looked around the area. It was beautiful. A dense lush forest that opened up to a lake with a small cabin. Isolated. Quiet.

Peaceful.

Immediately you felt your body relax in the new environment. It was so far removed from anything and everything that it allowed you to let go of the tight hold you had on your life. It allowed you to let go of the rage for a moment.

"Sokovia," he answered. "This is mine. When Wanda and I were little, even before the enhancements, our connection was strong and can be overwhelming. I needed a place that was only my own."

"Wanda doesn't know about this?"

"No, it is the only secret I have ever kept from her. I've never brought anyone else here."

Turning to him, you could see the shy smile on his face. There was a reluctance there, as if he was nervous that his little hideaway would not be good enough for you. You were quick to shoot that thought down.

"It's beautiful, Pietro. Thank you for sharing this with me."

His smile brightened as he approached you and held both your hands in his. "We can stay for as long as you want to. I can go into town and get us more supplies. We can swim in the lake if you like and I can cook you paprikash. You'll love it."

He was so excited. So happy to be able to spend time with you. Elated to be able to share this sentimental place with someone else, but he saw the sadness in your eyes and it made him force himself to slow down. The smile on his face dimmed.

"Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you anywhere you like."

The heartbreak and disappointment in his voice alerted you. You hurriedly wound your arms around his shoulders and forced his eyes to meet yours. You recognized the way he looked at you, but it was only now that you really noticed that he has always looked at you that way. He was so pure. So honest. So good.

He was too good for you.

"No, Pietro. This is perfect. You're perfect." You tried to smile up at him. "I don't deserve you."

Just like that he understood you. He drew you closer by the waist and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. When he drew back, his smile lit up his face again.

"Why do you need to deserve me, little star?" he chuckled at the puzzled look on your face, finding it adorable. "Can I not just choose to love you?"

You frowned and he just laughed more. He shushed your protests by pulling you flush against his body, lowering his head to hover his lips mere inches from yours. He left this small distance as your choice to make just as he has made his.

"Let me choose to love you."

You could feel his breath on your face at this distance, see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You made your choice.

Kissing Pietro has to be the most comforting experience that you had ever felt. He tasted like hot chocolate on a rainy day and you felt your body melt when he returned the gesture. You were sighing against his lips when the now familiar feeling of him dashing turned it into a surprised squeal. You blinked and you were lying down on a soft mattress with Pietro grinning down at you.

You laughed as you shared more kisses, hands giddily exploring each other and tearing away pieces of clothing until nothing lay between you. For the first time in a long time, you felt insecure about your scars. For the first time, you were reluctant for someone to see them. Again, just like that he understood you.

"You're beautiful, little star. You have always been beautiful to me."

He kissed you again, deeply and full of emotion that you melted into the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He stopped to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs causing you to involuntarily moan his name. Lower he went until his mouth was working gentle swirls on your sensitive bud. Your hips grinded against his tongue, desperately seeking more.

He pressed his mouth fully on you then, adding a finger much to your delight. He ate you like he worshipped you. Like he was blessed with the opportunity to bring you pleasure. Your body sang his praises, reacting with equal enthusiasm by soon reaching your orgasm. You shook beneath him as he allowed you to ride out your high, soothing you with gentle hands rubbing circles on your hips. He was smirking at you when he crawled up, satisfied that he had made you cum but clearly aiming for more.

He kissed you again as he lined himself up against your core, sliding it against your slit to coat it with your slick. He wasn't even inside you yet and you already felt like you were ready to cum. He held your gaze, silently asking for permission that this was still what you wanted. Instead of answering, you moved your hips to slip his length inside causing him to drag out a hiss and capture your mouth again. The groan you both let out when he bottomed out vibrated through your fused lips.

"You feel incredible," he whispered. "You feel so good wrapped around me. Just like I always thought you would."

"Pietro, please."

His strokes were slow and deep, hitting that special spot inside you that had you panting with want. The smooth roll of his hips was quickly driving you higher and higher toward another orgasm. It was so gentle. So sensual. So personal.

"Tell me what you want, little star."

Everything about Pietro's life had been one big event after another. Rushed decisions. Angry fighting. Missions. Even his very enhancement relied on speed.

He didn't want that with you.

With you he wanted to slow everything down. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to stop time if he could, keep you in his arms for as long as possible. Freeze you in this exact moment when all you felt was pleasure.

"More," you pleaded.

Maybe he could speed up just a little bit.

His strokes gradually hastened and he glowed with satisfaction at seeing you delirious with desire because of him. He palmed at your breasts, nipped at your neck, and bucked his hips just a bit harder.

"More."

He smiled. How could he deny you? He lifted you up until you were seated on him, holding you firmly with an arm up your back with his hand fisting in your hair. The other hand he slipped between the two of you to rub against your clit. You saw the wicked glint in his eyes before he dipped his head to lave at your breasts.

You felt like you were going to explode from the different sensations. That was until he decided to move your body to bounce on his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet you and his hand on your back guiding you to wind your hips as you came down. Your clit hit his pelvis each time and another wave was added onto your building climax. You whined, moaned, and pleaded his name. Begging him to grant you release.

“Let go for me. I have you. Let go.“

He growled against your breast and pounded up into you until you screamed and shook above him, clenching him so hard you pulled his own orgasm out of him. He spilled into you, crushing you against him as you continued to flutter around him.

You fought to catch your breath and when you caught each other's eyes, still hazy from lust, you laughed. You felt free. You felt renewed. You kissed him then.

"I love you too, Pietro."

He looked at you with unrestrained adoration. He had been chasing after you for so long that he could hardly believe that he had finally caught you. That he was finally yours.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" you teased.

He chuckled and pulled you in for another lingering kiss. You felt so good in his arms that he has completely forgotten how it felt to not have you in them.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder. "If you want to we can runaway. I can take you away from all of this. We can stay here or we can go anywhere else."

He smiled warmly at you and pecked your lips when he saw the internal conflict flash through your features. Again, without a word he understood you.

"But I know that is not what you want," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to know that you have that choice if you should want it."

Tempting as his offer was, you knew you couldn't let go of Lily's memory. You would never truly be at peace until Salvacion was rotting six feet under and his whole operation was blown to bits. You couldn't leave your mission unfinished. And you couldn't bear to leave four other men behind. Looking back at the events of the past night, it felt more accurate to say five. Still, there was a sense of security from knowing you had that option.

"Let's go home."

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay let’s take a vote. Should we forgive Bucky now?

------------------------------------------------

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[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[luminnara]

Victor Zsasz x Reader NSFW | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey/DC

I don’t see nearly enough BOP!Zsasz appreciation here, so I’m determined to change that. Reader is fem, but if there’s interest I can definitely write stuff for male or nb! The reader also has a whole backstory because I’m way more into world and character building than I am reader inserts so this is practically a little OC fic lol

This is sort of set pre-Birds of Prey, don’t worry about it too much, it’s just fun

Warnings: Violence, Zsasz being Zsasz, reader is an assassin who unalives people, light smut

This is short because I’m testing the waters! If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2!!

Requests are open!

When Roman announced that he was hiring a new girl, Victor was less than thrilled. He liked what they had going--Roman was the money and the brains, and Victor was the muscle, the devout follower, and the one who loved to spill blood. They didn’t need anybody else, especially not a new hitman, and especially not a girl.

You had grown up in Gotham City’s East End, a district that was infamous for harboring all sorts of crime. You knew every street, every dark alley, every burnt out shell of a once-great building. The East End was a far cry from Gotham’s nicer neighborhoods, with their shining skyscrapers and big fancy department stores, but what could you say? The East End was home. It was dark and gritty and dangerous, but you loved that about it. 

Besides, it’s not like you could really go anywhere else. 

You had developed quite a reputation for yourself over the past few years. Places like the East End have a tendency to breed criminals, and you were no exception--as soon as you left home, you followed right in your mother’s footsteps and became a gun for hire. Thanks to your family name, you had no trouble taking on the odd merc job here and there, working for mob bosses who didn’t mind the mess you tended to leave behind. Silent, sneaky kills weren’t really your thing, but you never really got into the whole...artistic thing that a lot of other killers did. You didn’t sit there and fuck around with the blood and guts, you just...weren’t very tidy. You were quick, but you weren’t clean. If somebody wanted their enemies taken out quietly, they knew not to even look in your direction, because you were not the girl for the job. 

If somebody wanted to make a statement, though...

You were more than happy to crush some skulls and splatter some blood across the sidewalk for the right price. 

Of course, so much killing got to be exhausting after a while, and even brutal assassins like yourself needed to relax every so often. So, that’s how you found yourself finishing up a job and heading back to your modest little apartment, hopping in the shower, and scrubbing all the blood and dirt off your skin as if you had just spent a long day at the office. It was all normal for you--the killing, the shady bosses, the weirdos you worked with--and you treated it the same way any of those prim and proper office people in Old Gotham treated their day jobs. It was a way to make ends meet, something to pay for groceries and take care of the bills...only, in your case, you were generally paid fully in cash, and sometimes that cash had some suspicious stains on it. 

But hey, work was work, right?

That night, you headed to a club you had yet to check out. Done up in a little black dress and wearing some very expensive pearls you had nabbed off of a target a few months back, you took a cab and found yourself entering The Black Mask.

It was a nice spot, the booths and bar all packed with socialites and crime lords. Waitresses and shot girls flitted around, there was a band playing on the stage, and the atmosphere seemed to be cheerful. Honestly, it wasn’t what you had expected, given what you’d heard about its owner.

Roman Sionis was a businessman, as he liked to call himself, who had been steadily growing his empire. He practically owned the entire East End now, and word on the street was he was looking to expand further into the rest of Gotham. You had never met the man, but you had enough mutual connections that Roman knew exactly who you were the moment he spotted you at the bar.

“Zsasz, go get her,” he said, gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.

Zsasz followed his gaze and tilted his head slightly. “You got it, boss.”

You were minding your own business, ordering yourself a gin and tonic and elbowing drunk men out of your way as you carved a little spot for yourself at the bar. They were rambunctious, leaning towards you with wide grins and beady eyes that told you they were hoping to get lucky tonight.

As you were getting ready to throw another elbow, the men suddenly scattered, vanishing into the crowd as if something had scared them off. The bartender set your drink down in front of you, and just as you raised the glass to your lips, the scent of musky cologne filled your nose and you looked up to see none other than the notorious Victor Zsasz standing before you.

“Boss wants to talk with you.” He said simply, his voice rough and hoarse.

But you were too busy taking in his facial features to really listen to his words. His short hair was the lightest blonde you had ever seen, almost snowy in color, a stark contrast to the black stubble that covered his jaw. He was wearing a silky dress shirt the color of red wine, or dark blood, the kind that was thick and coagulated and dripped off of knives so beautifully.

As he stared right back at you, you saw the scars that cut into his face, straight, meticulously carved lines that you were sure he had given himself. After all, just as you did, Victor Zsasz had a reputation, and while you had never met him, you had heard plenty about the sadistic assassin who kept tally marks of all of his victims.

Part of you wondered just how many he had.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his. “I only just got here. I haven’t even paid for my drink.”

“On the house, courtesy of Mr. Sionis.” Zsasz said, regarding you with heavily lidded eyes as he looked down at you.

Just as you knew of him, he knew of you. Even though he was pretty much locked in place with Roman now, Zsasz heard plenty about everyone else in the East End. You practically ran in the same circles, and he had to admit, he was a tiny bit curious about the lady assassin everyone was raving about. He almost admired the messiness of your kills, but he also thought that you were sloppy and too quick, never taking the time to truly appreciate what you were doing.

Now, as he glanced down at the swell of your tits as they practically spilled out of your dress, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill you, or fuck you, or both.

“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Zsasz.” You teased as you caught him.

“It’s rude to keep the boss waiting.” He shot right back.

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing away from the bar. “Lead the way.”

He offered his hand and you took it, holding onto him gingerly. The crowd parted for Zsasz in a way that they never would for you, smoothly and easily, club patrons giving him polite, frightened nods as he pulled you past. His grip on your hand was tight and harsh, squeezing as if you might try to run, but in all honesty, you were marveling at how warm his skin was around yours. You didn’t hate the way he led you over to his employer, and you knew that he was being gentle, or at least his version of it. 

When he brought you before Roman Sionis, he immediately let go of you, moving to stand next to his boss. Roman himself was sitting in a booth, sinking into the lavish red velvet upholstery as he held a drink in his gloved hand. He regarded you with a calm smile, immediately gesturing for you to take a set across from him. 

So you did, and the rest was history.

Roman Sionis had heard of you, and when he realized that you lived in the East End, in his East End, he had to have you. He had to own you. So, he did what he always did with people, and he bought you. All you had to do was complete one little, simple job for him, and he would keep you around on a regular salary, giving you all the benefits of joining his tiny little family. You passed his test with flying colors, taking out your target faster than Roman could have hoped for, and the next thing you knew, you were spending your days lurking around Roman’s penthouse. 

You stayed quiet and obedient, not wanting to give Roman any reason to get rid of you. It was a good, steady gig, one you didn’t want to pass up, but you could tell that Zsasz wasn’t pleased. He scowled at you, always waiting for you to trip, always ready to watch you fall. You got the feeling that he viewed you as an intruder, someone who was messing up his life even though you gave him more than enough space. He would raise his lip in a sneer whenever you passed, showing off gold teeth in a maddeningly handsome way that always had you hoping and praying that he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks sometimes flushed. He never seemed to care, as he never made any other moves. Maybe he was under strict orders not to fuck with--or just plain fuck---you, or maybe he legitimately didn’t want to. 

You didn’t know why you had started to care so much. 

You didn’t know about the way he watched your ass when you walked away from him, or the lewd way he sometimes palmed himself right out in the open. You never heard his pants and moans as he got off to the thought of you wrapped around him, and you never got to hear your name rolling off his tongue as he spilled into his hand, hips rocking of their own accord. 

Yeah, Zsasz was pretty much head over heels. He was fucked. 

He didn’t know why he liked you so much. There was just something about you, something about the way you walked and talked that always made his cock hard. He had reached the point where you would enter a room, and his pants would grow tight. Did you even know? Could you possibly fathom the torture you were putting him through every single day in Roman’s penthouse? Zsasz wanted to grab you and bend you over something, anything, hike that cute little skirt up and just go to town on your cunt. He dreamed about it at night, he wanted it, he craved the taste of your pussy...

But he couldn’t have it. 

Not yet. 

He would wait. He could be patient. After all, Roman came first. Roman always came first. Zsasz needed to focus on keeping his boss calm and happy, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted, no matter how much he wanted to press you up against the windows and fuck you so that the entire East End could see who you belonged to. 

No matter how badly he wanted it, Zsasz would wait. 

[andrasta14]

(So I originally ended up getting carried away (again lol) writing this absurdly long reply in response to another post, but I thought I may as well just post it separately, too, since Book 9 seems to have fully decimated my usual code of silence regarding all things Outlander. 😂) 

~*~

I honestly can’t say I particularly like the person that John has become by the end of Book 9 - which makes me extremely sad to say because John’s been my favourite Outlander character for years (other than Percy himself). Apparently that thing about people mellowing with age definitely doesn’t apply to him because he’s just managed to become a bigger prick with age, increasingly narrow-minded and self-righteous, untempered by his usual kindness and empathy. His coldness just leaves me feeling cold.

(Hell, almost he may as well be just be Percy’s father, minus the zealot-like faith in God. Just what is it with Percy and his tendency to fancy men with “brutal” personalities anyway? That’s a whole other psychological kettle of fish, but if I had to point to its root, that father of his is a no-brainer, and no doubt only further compounded by the sorts of men he’s been involved with in his life, whether by choice or out of necessity.)

I mean, John showed a hell of a lot more concern for bloody Neil the C*nt Stapleton’s well-being than that of his own stepbrother and former lover whom he’d once loved! Did Percy ASK to be abducted and tortured because of the Grey family’s dramatic bullshit? In fact, did he not go out his way to warn John about Richardson’s schemes TWO YEARS prior to all this rigmarole? What was John doing all that time??? Sitting on his hands and minding Amaranthus’s baby?

When Percy told John Michael Weber had blackmailed him John was all, “oh why didn’t you just tell me about it, I would’ve made sure Weber was no threat to you”, like a condescending twat. *scoff* Well, Percy gave him him two bloody years warning that he was in danger but I didn’t see Mr Big Man doing bugger all to neutralize the threat of Richardson. Maybe if he’d trusted Percy more he’d have taken his heads-up more seriously. Because when has Percy, when acting in deliberation, ever not acted to protect John - even at the risk of his own life?

When John got his ass beaten up - again - this time by a crazed mob of people because he made the impulsive and utterly mad decision to assist a convicted sodomite (of no friend or relation to him whatsoever to boot) to a quicker death in full view of god knows how many people and army officers. I mean, I hugely appreciate both the bravery and compassion that this act was born out of but -- IS HE STUPID OR SOMETHING?? o.O John knows how they love to gossip in the army - the utter foolishness of this act would’ve been second only to actually getting caught in flagrante delicto. And then when it finally came back to bite him in the ass (I was like UH-HUH, I knew it! xd) I wasn’t even surprised. It was likely the very first clue to tip off Richardson and send him looking for more proof that John was gay! (But I seem to have hugely digressed so back to my original point...lol...)

When John got his ass beaten up again and wasn’t in any fit state to uphold his promise to escort Captain Bates’s mistress back to Ireland, who volunteered to do it in his stead? Percy, of course, despite all the dangers inherent of such a long journey in the 18th century - highwaymen, bandits, footpads of all sorts. Percy, who’d never even held a sword until he was 26 years old and couldn’t even fight! HOW DARE JOHN DISMISS HIM AS A COWARD?!?! Percy Wainwright has never been a coward - if anything, his being an entirely average citizen and not some scion of a military family who’d been handed a “sword in the cradle” and trained to fight since earliest boyhood makes Percy all the more courageous. It isn’t the absence of fear that makes someone brave, it’s bloody well knowing all the dangers out there, being sensibly wary of said dangers, but then steeling yourself and going out and facing the danger anyway. Because something is more important to you than your own safety. Because John’s well being was more important to Percy than his own safety, greater than his own fear.

And then when Percy was in gaol, in the most dire circumstances he could possibly be in, basically waiting to be put to death, and recognizes Arthur Longstreet’s voice and the danger he poses to John’s life, what does he do? Why, write to warn him and then persuade a guard to find out what he could and then to deliver his letter in exchange for “a consideration” [insert sexual favour here, because what other currency does Percy have to barter with other than his own body], even though his confession has an extremely high chance of provoking the ONE man who might still care enough to save his life to want to wash his hands of him entirely and leave him to his fate. ‘I will leave you to imagine, if you will, what the writing of this letter costs me,’ he writes, ‘for that ultimate cost is up to you....to speak may mean my life; not to speak may mean yours. If you are reading these words, you will know which I have chosen.’

And then the pièce de résistance of this whole tragic mess is that Percy’s final act was again just him trying to get help to save John’s life, even at the looming threat of the loss of his own. I mean, he could’ve done NOTHING. He could’ve just continued keep his head down and hope that his show of submission would show Richardson he had no reason to kill him. Hell, he could have just taken his life and run, just gotten his ass on a ship and away from North America post-haste, since Richardson apparently regarded him as so insignificant a threat as to let him wander about on shore by himself for periods of time. That would’ve been the most sensible thing to do in terms of self-preservation - but no, instead he risked going to John’s house because John asked him to, in the name of Percy’s love for him no less.

(Even after John again just sat there and said nothing when Percy confessed he still loved him - AGAIN - and my god, the way that last conversation echoes the one when John visited Percy in gaol just kills me. It’s almost the same situation, except John is the one imprisoned and waiting to die this time. And that John can’t even at least have the decency to look Percy in the eye and give him an honest response at such a time, frigging TWICE now, when he bloody well knows this may be the last time they ever see each other...! But nope, John’s stubborn ass just evades the matter altogether and starts talking about f*cking seagulls or something - honestly, who’s the real coward here? Percy has always been bravest in the places where John is weakest: his fear of love and all the emotional vulnerability that comes with it.)

And that Percy went and did the very thing that John dismissed Percy as being too much of a coward to even consider and so didn’t even bother to ask for Percy’s help in the end...! Could his lack of faith, the impassively pitying contempt that John holds him in, BE any colder? If I even end up reading any of Book 10 in some mad fit of masochistic desire to know if this tragedy can get anymore tragic, it will primarily be to know if John has enough feeling remaining in that two-sizes-too-small muscle he calls a heart to feel any sorrow for Percy’s fate or enough tenderness of conscience to feel any shame for the part he played in his end. And for the instrument of his demise to have been labelled f*cking “Blood of Martyrs”...how appallingly appropriate. ~

~*~*~

(And on a another related matter - since apparently I’m on a ranting roll here lol - Hal F*cking Grey!! Who the HELL just leaves a poisoned bottle of brandy lying around in the open in his brother’s house without even frigging warning anyone, “Oh hey, by the way, make sure no one drinks that while I’m away, it’s poison...because I wouldn’t want to accidentally MURDER someone. Like, I want to do that shit on PURPOSE”?!?!?!!! I mean, poor George Stanley - his first two wives died on him and now one of his stepsons has killed the other...! Brilliant!!

And since I’m calling people out - Claire Fraser! What the bloody hell were you doing telling anyone, much less someone like that high-handed nutbar Hal frigging Grey, what to use to poison someone? What, did you leave all of your medical ethics back in the 20th century?? smfh)

Long story short, Book 9 makes me wish I could go back in time and tell Percy Wainwright to take his life and run rather than get involved with Lord John Grey and his family.

[persepholline]

I've read that article about the romanticization of the Darkling and while I absolutely understand people who are pissed off/sad and I agree that it's shitty, I find LB's attitude towards Darkles stans very funny in a "girl what are you doing" sort of way because it's so petty like I've never heard of a bestselling author writing a portion of their fans into their books as a crazy cult before, it clearly hit a nerve

I'm new to the fandom but the feeling I get is she wrote something problematic ten years ago and became very embarrassed about it afterwards so she turned on the fans that liked it as a way to absolve herself. Especially since fandoms in general have become a lot more focused on discussion of what constitutes healthy/acceptable relationships to write about. And in a way I get it I had a huge Twilight phase in high school and afterwards I was super embarassed about it because of how problematic and cringe it was. But now with distance and more maturity I'm able to both still see why it was problematic and also why I was drawn to it (mostly the very unhinged representation of female desire) and like...it's really not the end of the world and no it never made me believe that breaking into somebody's room at night to watch them sleep was actually ok in real life lmao. This feels so obvious to me but apparently it needs to be said.

(More under the break this is turning into an essay, I've been thinking of this a lot recently)

And of course it's good to have these discussions about how historically romance tropes have echoed social dynamics of men's shitty behavior being romanticized and excused. But these days they often are so simplistic and focused on chasing clout that they become this weird new puritanism and moral panic about oh now women are reading novels it's going to make them hysterical or something

So you have these weird assumptions that you can't like a character and also be critical of their actions, or enjoy certain parts of a character and not others, or wish they were written differently and like them more for their potential (which I'm sure stings a bit for an author lol) - it assumes that if you like a character it means you would approve of their actions in real life, or that people just stupidly reproduce whatever they see on TV. That tendency to treat fictional characters like real people is the thing that actually worries me, to be honest, because it indicates a lack of distance and critical capacities regarding how stories are used and received. But people - fans and authors - are so scared of being called out as problematic and harassed for it that they're going to shy away from any nuance.

And yeah I think that it's good that standards of what constitutes an ideal relationship are evolving and becoming more feminist and communicative and all that and we definitely need more of that. But not all fiction has to be aspirational! Sometimes you just want to read about fucked up shit, because it's cathartic or fascinating, even healing at times because with fiction you are absolutely in control and can choose when to close the book. Toxic relationships in fiction can have an appeal specifically because they go to extremes of feeling that we don't want to go to in reality, in exactly the same way as horror movies or very violent action movies - which I don't see a lot of people besides fundamentalist Christians argue that they turn you into violent psychopaths (and that feels very obviously sexist). And for women, who are often taught growing up that love is the purpose of life, the "saving someone with your ability to love" can be a power fantasy in the same way that being a buff superhero who saves the day with their capacity for incredible violence can be a power fantasy for men. Still doesn't mean those women are going to fall in love with actual murderers or that those men are going to start beating up people at night. And love is scary, and weird, and weirdly close to horror at times, with all the potential for loss of self and being vulnerable and overwhelming feelings and potential for being horribly hurt and it should be possible for stories to explore that without anybody screaming about how this is going to Corrupt the Youth or something

And I mean I get it LB wanted to write a cautionary tale for teenagers, but it just did not work for reasons a lot of people have already written about - the fact that the Darkling is the leader of an oppressed minority and is the only one with a real political agenda to end that oppression in the first trilogy, the fact that he helps Alina come into her own power while her endgame LI is someone she keeps herself small for, that she's shamed for wanting power after growing up without any, a generally very wonky conception of privilege, and a lot of other stuff with yucky regressive implications to the point where stanning the villain actually feels liberating and empowering which is a surefire sign that the narrative is broken (unless it's a villain focused story lmao). But of course that Fanside article makes almost no mention of the political dynamics, it's all about interpersonal stuff which is an annoying trend in YA, there are those massive events happening in the background but it's made all about the feelings of the hero(ine) ; war as a self-development quest (which is kind of gross). Helnik is kind of an example of this too - I like them, I think they're fun ! But Matthias spends a big part of the story wanting to brutally murder Nina and her kind, and he mostly changes his mind because he finds her hot. Like you don't feel there is some sort of big revelation that his entire moral system and political framework is completely rotten ; it's all better because of feelings now.

As a teenager that kind of sanctimonious bullshit would have annoyed the hell out of me ; I read those books in my early twenties and I found the ending so stupid I wouldn't have trusted any message or life lessons coming from them. And I liked reading/watching dark stuff as a teenager, as a way to deal with the very intense inner turmoil I was dealing with - and I turned out fine ! Meanwhile I've seen several times women in very shitty relationships being obsessed with positive energies and stories ; they were so terrified of their life not being perfectly wholesome they ended up being delusional about their own situations.

Like personally I think the Darkling is a compelling, interesting, alluring character and also a manipulative, murderous piece of shit and that Alina should get to punish him (like in a sexy way) - but he's also the end result of centuries of war, oppression and trauma and reducing that to "toxic wounded boy" feels kind of offensive ngl ESPECIALLY since the books don't offer any kind of systemic analysis or response to oppression beyond "the bad guy should die" and "now the king/queen is a good guy our problems are solved!!!!"

In Lives of the Saints, we see how Yuri is abused extremely badly and almost killed by his father, and so when his father dies when the Fold swallows Novokribirsk, he thinks the Starless Saint has saved him. Later in KoS/RoW he's turned into this fanatic who explains away all the Darkling's crimes. The other followers talk about how the Starless Saint will bring equality for all men. Then the Darkling comes back and actually thinks his followers are pathetic, which feels again like a very pointed message to his IRL stans. Which is absolutely hilarious to me. Like oh no, if he was real he would not like you and think you're pathetic ! Yeah ...but he's not. Real. Damn right he would not like the fics where Alina puts him on a leash. I'm still going to read them. What is he going to do about it, jump out of the page ? Jfjfjjdhfgfjfj

Anyway I think the intended message is "assholes will use noble political causes for their own gain and to manipulate people" and "being abused/oppressed is not an excuse to behave badly." Which. Sure. But that's kind of like...a tired take, honestly ? A big number of villains nowadays are like this ; either they've been bullied as kids, or they're part of an oppressed group, or they have "good ideals but too extreme". This is not surprising because a lot of mainstream heroic narratives present clinging to the status quo as Good and change as chaotic and dangerous. And like sure in real life people often do bad shit because they're wounded and in danger. But if you want to do a story like that, you have to do it with nuance, talk about cycles of violence, about how society creates vulnerable people to be exploited, about how privilege gives you more choices and the luxury of morals, etc. The Grishaverse does not have this level of nuance (maybe in SoC a little bit but definitely not in TGT). So it kind of comes off as "trauma makes you evil" and "egalitarianism is dangerous" and "if you're abused/oppressed you're not allowed to fight back". And ignores the fact that historically, evil generally comes from unchecked privilege.

I guess my point is that there are many things I like about LB's writing, she knows how to create these really exciting character dynamics, and the world she has created is fascinating. But these stories are not a great starting point for imparting moral lessons. And her best characters tend to be, at least in canon, the morally grey ones. I hope one day she'll be at peace with the fact that she wrote the Darkling the way she did and leave his fans alone but in the meantime I'm just not going to take this whole thing seriously I'm sorry

[tinmunky]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Found on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38215375/chapters/95478313

No Galaxy for Old Men Series - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Characters & Pairings: Zaeed Massani/Fem!Shep, Kasumi Goto, Garrus Vakarian

Summary: Shepard benches the Squad to help Kasumi take on Donovan Hock and Zaeed doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with emotions other than anger. Can his mouth get him out of the trouble it gets him in?

Rating: Explicit for sex - 7,848 words

Tags: Sexual tension, oral f receiving, f/m sex, violence, swearing, choking, angst, happy ending, big emotions, smut

Audio Parings: Chapter One: Gasoline - Halsey / Chapter Two: Riptide - Unlike Pluto / The Bad in Each Other - Feist / Chapter Three: To Be Alone - Hozier

Chapter 1: Set the Explosive

Things had been different since that night on Omega. Nothing overt had tipped him off to their change in dynamic, but that shared camaraderie seemed to have softened Shepard towards Zaeed. No, he wouldn’t call it that. She was still a stone-cold bitch with a temper that would light the fires of hell, but he seemed to be less frequently on the receiving end of it. He kind of missed the acidic attention.

In the last few weeks, Zaeed had found himself on more and more of her away missions, pulling each other out of one hairy situation after another. Zaeed hadn’t experienced this kind of exhilaration in at least a decade. The quality of her work was hard, brutal, and excessively dangerous. It reminded him of his early days in the Blue Suns. She was setting a mission tempo that a man half his age would have had difficulty maintaining and she never once asked if he could keep up. Thank God he hadn’t gone soft.

When she teamed him up with Vakarian, the three of them were unstoppable. She clearly played favorites, throwing the Turian a smile and him the snark, but he liked that edge. It kept him sharp. He got more out of a biting quip than a kind remark anyway. She seemed to know exactly what to say to whom to get the best performance from her team. Zaeed begrudgingly respected her leadership acumen, so he happily covered her six with Vakarian as her point. He wouldn’t be exaggerating if he said the view from behind was a deeply appreciated bonus.

They had started pretty rocky at first. That day in the elevator had left him hard as a rock and angry as a Krogan in rut. She had straddled him, covered in blood, with a smile as bright as the sun, and then she had the gall to cast a flirtation half invitation. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she didn’t actually hate his guts .

Imagine that—a polished career officer taking up with an old piece of mercenary shit like him. It was enough to make anyone laugh. Sure, there had been suggestive comments and banter thrown back and forth since then. She gave as good as she got, both physically and verbally, but he was under no illusions that this woman wasn’t all business. Yet, he couldn’t deny the magnetic tug he felt around her. He was sure they all felt it around her. She was a force of nature. Like staring into a supernova. You couldn’t help but be drawn in.

One day he’d point blank asked her if he’d become her favorite. She’d laughed and assigned him to latrine duty in retribution. He appreciated her sense of humor.

Since they’d ironed out some wrinkles in their working relationship, Zaeed hadn’t given Shepard a hard time about being a team player, and she hadn’t made any decisions that he seriously questioned. Sure, he’d lift an eyebrow to some of her more outlandish ideas, but nothing that he thought would lead to certain death, until today.

The Normandy was scheduled to dock at the Citadel in a few hours for a routine overhaul, keeping them shoreside for a week. Joker was ecstatic, but Zaeed didn’t seek out the more civilized sectors when he could avoid it and being in Citadel space set him on edge. Already in a bad mood, he was then hauled up to the command deck only to be told that the newest member of the squad, the master thief Kasumi Goto, had a personal mission that needed immediate attention. It was just the fucking cherry on his bad mood cake.

Zaeed didn’t trust the new girl much. No one really knew who she was. He’d heard rumors through his richer, seedier channels that she was a ghost who left chaos in her wake, if she even existed at all. Goto had made more enemies in a career a third the length of his, and now she was going to drag Shepard—and the rest of them—into her drama. It was like she was actively trying to piss people off. He was pretty sure at one point she was using her little cloaking trick to spy on him in his bunk. Sneaky bitch. He respected the girl’s talent, but she had way too much arrogance to go along with that lack of judgement.

The walking bad mood leaned against the wall of the briefing room with the other members of the squad, glowering, waiting for the good news to just keep coming. Goto wanted them to help her infiltrate the personal fortress of the biggest knob in the sector, Donovan Hock for her boyfriend’s bloody gray box.

Fucking. Great.

Zaeed tsked quietly under his breath, garnering a sharp glance from Shepard. The weapons dealer was not someone to be trifled with. He literally had an army at his disposal, the council in his pocket, and his greasy little fingers were in all the worst pies. Zaeed had suspected for years he funded Vido’s operations. The man was a piece of shit of the highest order. He’d be perfectly happy to see the asshole crash and burn, but as a spectator, not a participant. He didn’t want whatever heat came with taking the piss with a man like Hock.

He kept these thoughts to himself as he listened to Shepard and Goto lay out the details, casting periodic glances at Vakarian, trying to read his take on the whole thing. The bloke didn’t seem happy with the prospect of kicking a hornet’s nest but he remained silent. Zaeed glanced farther down the table. Lawson, who always had something to say about everything, was also uncharacteristically quiet. It did nothing but key Zaeed up more.

This whole business didn’t benefit the team or their end goal; why was Shepard even entertaining the notion? This was strictly personal to Goto, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Since when had he become such a team player? He stuffed that smarmy little voice back in the box it came out of and scowled harder. With each word out of the small woman’s mouth, his blood pressure ticked higher. Then she made her final demand. Shepard had to go alone, unarmed, unarmored and with only a slip of a thief as her lifeline.

The idea of cutting Shepard off from all her resources for a deep infiltration job that risked her, their entire mission… everything for something as ridiculous as some little girl romance made his blood boil. Zaeed chanced a another look at Vakarian. His vocals rumbled in two layers, dissatisfied, but said nothing. Zaeed grunted. Fucking pussy. Well, if the Turian wasn’t going to be the voice of reason, Zaeed would bloody well have to. He pushed off the wall and stepped forward.

“You’re actually entertaining this horse shit?” he scoffed at Shepard. “You’ve gotta be bloody kidding me! Donovan Hock is not some low-rent criminal.”

“Excuse me, I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Massani.” Shepard’s clap back was crisp and razor sharp. Her fingers tented on the shiny glass table. “You’re in this briefing as a courtesy only. This mission is already green-lit and your input on my chances of success will not change this. You’re benched until further notice.”

Zaeed leaned in, all coiled frustration and suddenly angrier than he had any right to be, finger pointed across the table at the Commander. In for a penny, in for a pound. He was never good at being put in his place.

“And I don’t recall you being a childish halfwit.” Zaeed fired back. ”What do you think he’ll do if he realizes he’s got the Commander Shepard? This is a right stupid idea, and you fucking know it. We don’t have a dog in this fight with Donovan Hock. He’s a right fucker, and this feels a helluva lot like a trap that you’re too much of a goddam goody–two-shoes-romantic to accept.”

With each word, Shepard’s gaze sharpened down to a laser point on Zaeed, a white-hot rage rolling off her. He might have pushed her a bit farther than he had planned, letting his frustration runaway with his mouth, but he didn’t back down. Staring right back. In for a penny…

Miranda stepped up, a facilitating smile plastered across her face, ready to PR the fuck out of this squabble.

“What I’m sure Mr. Massani means…” She began.

“Shut the fuck up, Cheerleader,” Jack hissed, clearly knowing when not to get between two varrens about to start slinging teeth.

“Yes, shut up, Lawson.” Shepard’s voice was like ice as she took slow, measured steps around the table to stand before the merc. The room was silent as all eyes fixed on the two tempers swirling. Zaeed’s eyes darted across her face staring coldly back at him. Fuck. He’d burned up any good will she had for him. But he meant what he said. This was a bad, bad idea.

“You have the absolute gall to lecture me on jeopardizing the mission for a personal vendetta? After that bullshit with Vido?”

Fuck. Publicly slapping him would have been less vicious.

Whatever floodgates that had held all his mounting tension at bay snapped. He did the only thing he could do that wouldn’t land him in an all-out brawl.

“Fuck you, princess.” He hissed around scarred lips and clenched teeth before brushing past her towards to door.

“You haven’t been dismissed, Massani.” She called.

“Fuck you!” He roared as he slammed his fist into the door jamb on his way out, leaving a healthy dent.

———

Chapter 2: Light the Fuse

Zaeed had made it to the relative privacy of his storage closet quarters in record time, thankfully not encountering any of the crew along the way. He was of a mind to punch the next bloody person he saw. Rationally, he knew he had earned this. He let his mouth get ahead of him, and despite his very valid feelings towards the risk Goto was putting her in (them, he corrected himself), he was the last person on this tub that could cast shade for trying to settle a score on someone else’s dime.

He entered the room like a angry bull. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, he shucked off his jacket, his shoulders stretching the white tank across his scarred and inked back as he threw the battered leather across the workbench.

“Fuck!” He exploded.

The clatter of tools and components hitting the floor provided a loud and satisfying accompaniment to his childish violence. If he was being honest with himself, which he would rather die than do, he would admit that the reason he was so pissed was that he was being left behind. He could do fuck-all to protect her if he was on the Normandy. Sure, she had gone on dozens of missions without him, but if he wasn’t there, Vakarian was. Garrus was the only one on the squad that Zaeed felt was truly capable of keeping Shepard in one piece.

He stood in the center of the room, listening to the comforting hum of the garbage compactor. Zaeed took a deep shaky breath before running roughened hands through his hair, settling them behind his head. He rolled his neck to release some of the tightly-wound tension and tried to look at this clearly.

Maybe if he hadn’t made such a public scene, it might have gone differently. She had a knack for mashing his buttons good and hard, but when had he ever done the right fucking thing? Zaeed had really fucked this one up, but goddammit, she was too bloody arrogant to see reason. Each mission she seemed little more reckless, a little keener to spit in death’s face to be the hero. Heroes end up dead.

As he blankly stared at the wall across from him, sorting through whatever the fuck this emotional mess was, the bulkhead door slid open with a hiss. Zaeed dropped his head back and closed eyes in a silent prayer for peace. Couldn’t she just leave me alone?

“Get the fuck out.” His raspy voice sounded much calmer than he anticipated.

“It’s my ship.” She responded, her voice tight. He cast a narrowed eye over his shoulder. She stood in the doorway, arms folded over her painted-on uniform, every crease perfectly pressed, face benign, temper under control. Not a hair out of place. Seeing her so unfazed pissed him off all over again. He was taken with an irrational urge to pull that wretched bun down. To ruffle her feathers to match his mood. He turned to face her, arms folded over his own chest, stance mirroring hers.

“Say your piece, then get the fuck out.” He groused, head tilted towards the still open door.

She stepped into the room, and the door automatically closed behind her. The room was bathed in a dim light, only the ambient cargo hold lighting and the red glow of the garbage compactor keeping them visible. He really didn’t know if he could handle her being this close to him right now. His blood was still up from her barbs at the briefing and the fact he had no control over any of this.

“Do you have to fight me on literally everything?” She asked. She sounded tired.

“It’s my core competency—being disagreeable.” He quipped back. Safety in glib responses. “I’m in no mood to apologize for speaking my mind, Shepard. Especially since you’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Why are you even here if my opinion of yer stupid ass decision doesn’t matter?”

She snorted. A weary, sardonic half smile played across her lips. Clearly him being a right unfriendly knob wasn’t scaring her off.

“Do you think any of this is discretionary for me, Zaeed?”

“As ya often remind me, this is yer bloody ship, so yeah, I do think ya can tell them no” Zaeed’s accent grew apace with his frustration.

She looked contemplative for a moment before drawing her lower lip between her teeth, weighing her next words carefully. He knew he was being a dick, and she wouldn’t take the bait. Her lack of responding anger made him uneasy. He didn’t know the rules of this game. Usually they’d sling verbal jabs, maybe a literal one or two and that would be that. This Shepard he didn’t know how to handle.

“I don’t have the luxury to not do everything in my power to ensure our success. You’ve seen what we’re up against. You know this isn’t a game, and in the end we’re all expendable. That’s the definition of a suicide mission Zaeed. We all knew this when we signed on.” Her voice sounded exasperated and exhausted, almost pleading with him to let it go. He hated that voice. He knew how to handle angry, violent, sarcastic Shepard. This was a side he wasn’t used to seeing.

“Bullshit!” He hissed. Her eyes darted up to meet his. A fleeting spark, but she remained silent. He needed her to fight back.

“Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, incredulous. His voice rose with each word. "You didn’t sign up for this. We did! You were conscripted, and you’re still so goddamn eager to martyr yourself on any sword these self-centered brats offer you. For what? To buy their loyalty?”

Shepard scoffed as she moved to the workbench. She tossed his jacket to the narrow cot he had set against the wall, the movement pulling the fabric of her uniform taught across her breasts. Jesus. His mouth went dry. She leaned back against the freshly-cleared edge, hands gripping the cool metal and the fabric somehow tightened more. Zaeed increased the death grip on his anger, trying to counterbalance the intoxicatingly magnetic pull of her subtly suggestive and completely oblivious mannerisms.

“I don’t expect you to get it Zaeed.” Her voice was cold and controlled. “Some people are motivated by things other than money and vengeance.”

He wondered if she saw him flinch, her cold insult landing like a physical blow. He could feel himself flush with anger and embarrassment to be so casually reminded of his own shortcomings. Since that day on Zorya, he had given her his loyalty. As time went on, he’d not have hesitated to give her his life. Not because he was being paid, or because of a contract, or because of the promise of Vido, but because he believed in her— and to have her not see that, to throw it back in his face? That cut real deep.

He practically vibrated with the need to knock her off her high horse and his traitorous brain provided a decent visual of him scooping her up, setting her on the cold surface of the bench with him between her knees. Christ. His body was still locked in this constant battle of anger and lust when it came to her. In a panic to erase the visual that sent fire through his body, he leaned into the anger instead, finding comfort in trading verbal blows. He wanted to make her feel it. Feel how she made him feel. His next comment was leaving his mouth before his brain had the chance to slam on the brakes.

“Oh, I do get it Shepard.” His voice thick with rage. “If you constantly throw yourself at other people’s problems, maybe you’ll prove you’re actually good enough for them. Maybe if you’re good enough, ole’ what’s-his-face will accept you again?“

A smart man would have instantly regretted those words. A wise man wouldn’t have said them at all, but as the last words left his lips, her face lit up and she was full of fire again. The cold, quiet defeat burned away and, God, she was beautiful when she burned.

She pushed off the bench and closed the distance between them, as lightening quick as her hand flashing hard across his face. His eyes widened. The sting across his cheek was nothing compared to the shock. She’d never slapped him before. Sure they’d brawled, drawn blood with fists and kicks, but she’d never open-handed slapped him before.

“How fucking dare you.” She hissed between clinched teeth.

He caught her wrist before she could slap him again and yanked her off balance into his chest. Her free hand shot out to grip his bicep for balance, a feminine gasp escaping her parted lips as her nails dug in. He felt instantly ashamed of his tactics, but he was powerless to stop now. He was fighting dirty. She wasn’t stopping him, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Zaeed felt like he was holding it together by a thread. Her wrist was easily encircled by his larger hand. When had this larger-than-life woman become so delicate? His left hand came up to grip the nape of her neck, pinning her to him. Her hair slid across his battle-roughened hands, that damned bun finally askew. He stared at her face, horrified at how low he’d gone. Her full lips were still parted and dangerously close, blue eyes dark and glassy with emotions he couldn’t read. And… and it broke something in him. He was sorry.

The realization made his next words the most honest he’d ever spoken.

“If you keep parting yourself out, Logan, there will be nothing left.” Her given name felt foreign on his tongue.

“I don’t know how, Zaeed.” She whispered. He released her wrist, but she held on as he slid his hand along her rib, pulling her closer. Holding her tight, longer to restrain her violence but to comfort her sorrow.

“I know, sweetheart.” Zaeed dragged the calloused pad of his thumb along her cheek, sweeping away the moisture gathered there. Her gaze searched his face. She was just as beautiful showing her vulnerability as she was with her strength.

In a day of bad decisions, what was one more? She’d probably kill him for this, but he’d made peace with his God long ago.

Zaeed Massani slid his hand across her jaw to angle her just right and kissed Logan Shepard.

His mouth was feather-soft against hers, waiting for her to eviscerate him for the offense. Instead, her lips parted under his, and it was like gasoline on the fire. Every dirty thought he had about her, every time he’d watched her hips swing past him in the corridor, every time he’d eased the pressure in the shower thinking of her came rushing to the surface. Zaeed pulled her flush against him, the length of her body molding to his as he set about devouring the woman of his dreams and his nightmares.

Shepard’s arms swept up around his shoulders, lost in the wave of their emotions. All these months of shared tension crested the dam and flooded forth. She fisted her hands in his hair, crashing her lips against his in a new form of sparring. Applying teeth in a sharp nip against his scarred lip.

Zaeed smoothed his hand down the small of her back, grasping a fist full of the ass he had spent so much time protecting. He started to lift her up onto the workbench and make his fantasies a reality when the comms chimed, EDI’s voice a bucket of frigid water on their personal wildfire.

“Commander Shepard, we’ve docked at the Citadel.”

Shepard’s whole body jumped in his hands as she broke the kiss, her eyes wide with terror.

“Copy that, EDI.” She replied, her voice shaken, her lips swollen and glistening. Fuck the robot, Zaeed thought, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in.

“Commander, are you well? Your heart rate and Mr. Massani’s are elevated.” EDI couldn’t possibly be that naive. “And it appears someone has rerouted the security cameras for the starboard cargo hold.”

“YeP!” She squeaked, overeager. “Perfectly fine! I’ll get to the bridge in a jiff.”

Zaeed closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, trying to slow his heart and his thoughts. The palm of her hand was scalding through his shirt and all he could think of was never letting go.

“Make Miranda go.” He whispered.

“You know I can’t.” Her voice was soft, but no longer defeated. “Will you trust me?”

“You’re the first person I’ve trusted in a very long time.” His veil of indifference and anger was long gone, leaving him bare. He broke the moment with a sharp squeeze of her cheek still in his hand, setting her a safe distance from him. He ran both hands through his hair in an attempt to keep them to himself, the thick silver stands standing on end.

“I’ve never contemplated murdering an AI before, but I definitely might make the effort now.” He sighed “You’d better git before I do something we both regret.”

She opened her mouth, and Zaeed wasn’t ready for rejection—or worse, acceptance—so he cut her off.

“Or Grunt comes looking for you and he kills me.”

She laughed. Goddammit. She laughed, and his gut flipped, both blatantly ignoring the row that brought her to his quarters, neither having the courage to say what needed to be said. She straightened her uniform as she walked towards the door. He knew she would go through with this mission. It was who she was at her core, and he knew that when she came back on the other side, they’d have to address whatever the fuck this now was. His gut flipped the other direction.

“Hey Shepard.” The gravel was back in his voice. She turned as he waved about his head dramatically. “Fix your hair.”

———

Chapter 3: Explosions Go Boom!

Zaeed was in the cargo hold when Shepard and Kasumi Goto boarded their shuttle to take on Donovan Hock. He had been working with Garrus on inventorying a special order of weapons components that needed calibration. Garrus had been prattling on about the merits of this particular setup versus that when he stopped mid sentence, suddenly tensing, a strangled “shit” hissing out. Zaeed looked up from the contents of the crate. He was pretty sure that constriction in his chest was his heart stopping. He was having a heart attack. This is what a heart attack felt like.

She was simply, stunning.

Shepard smartly marched across the platform in a set of smoking hot heels and a synth leather cocktail dress, both modest in neckline and completely sinful in cut. She deliberately avoided eye contact with everyone present, her head high and cheeks charmingly pink. The smaller woman trailed behind her like a dingy, skipping to keep up. Shepard’s crimson lips pressed in a determined line, her flaxen hair swept up and back in a long, swishing pony tail. He hadn’t realized her hair was so long, it was always in that damned bun. His overactive imagination happily supplied a detailed image of his fist wrapped in the length as he held her bent back against him.

His fingers twitched against the crate. Shit. Indeed.

Zaeed must have made a sound, or a move towards her because Garrus’ sub-vocals rumbled low.

“Don’t.” he hissed for only Zaeed to hear, his taloned hand falling heavy on the mercenary’s shoulder, rooting him in place.

Zaeed watched Shepard step onto the shuttle and turned to key the hatch closed behind her, His mismatched eyes locking with hers. She nodded to him once. Acknowledgement he didn’t deserve. He lifted his chin in response. The sharp gesture loaded with things that may never be resolved. And, so Zaeed and Garrus stood, watching Shepard depart on her most foolhardy mission yet where neither of them could follow.

As her shuttle cleared the Normandy, Zaeed shucked off Garrus’ heavy mitt.

“I need a goddamn drink birdman.” Zaeed’s voice thick with restrained agitation.

“Yeah. Me too.” Garrus said with resignation. All thoughts of calibrations and weapons components forgotten.

~~~

Shepard had to admit, if the plasma burns were any indication, stealing memory was not her forte. She’d managed to finesse her way through the gala with a surprising amount of charm only to have her ass practically handed to her by Donovan Hock himself in highly modified A-61 Mantis gunship. She’d known he would be well guarded, well trained and well armed, but Kasumi hadn’t said shit about a god damn gunship with fucking black market kinetic barriers.

Looking down that particular barrel had really made her second guess her decision to leave her squad on the bench. Kasumi’s cloaking abilities had saved their asses, but it was a close one. Closer than she probably would ever let anyone know.

They had ridden the Kodiak back in silence. Kasumi lost in whatever catharsis having recovered Keiji’s graybox held and Shepard being angry at how close they came to proving Zaeed right. A fate almost as annoying as death. She was grateful they had made it back in one piece, because it was pretty fucking close for a second there. Wouldn’t that have been a fun way to say fuck you to the Illusive Man. She thought. Oops I died again. She choked on a strangled giggle as she applied more medi-gel. Kasumi’s eyes darting back to her. Miranda would have lost her mind if she’d broken the merchandise before she served her purpose. The ride to the Citadel from the neighboring Boltzmann system would take a few hours, just enough time for the medi-gel to work its magic, leaving fresh pink skin across shoulder and hip.

Shepard had stripped out of her singed armor and taken some time in the shuttle’s head to clean herself up. Satisfied with the progress of her burns, the shiny pink skin was sensitive but no longer burning, she silently cursed herself for not packing another set of clothes. Nothing for it, she’d have to wear that stupid cocktail dress. It was the only clothing that wasn’t Swiss cheese. Her whole kit was a fucking mess. The shields had taken a beating and plasma had scorched through the pauldron and hip plate, hence the bacon smell of cooked flesh. Hell, even her underwear hadn’t survived the massacre. She added them to the heap in disgust, an angry tsk escaping her lips and garnering another side eyed glance from Kasumi.

“What?” She hadn’t missed the other woman’s eyes darting away.

“Nothing!” Kasumi squeaked.

Shepard’s eyes narrowed, but she left it alone, instead deciding to fantasize about when the Kodiak docked with the slumbering Normandy. She’d skip the visit to Chakwas and head straight towards her quarters. A shower. A drink. A nap. She was definitely looking forward to the downtime necessitated by the Normandy’s maintenance. Maybe she’d have that drink first, then the shower, then the nap… If everyone could just keep their personal needs to a minimum for the rest of the shore leave that would be just fucking great.

~~~

Zaeed knew the moment Shepard’s Kodiak had hailed the Normandy to start docking protocols. He had been laying awake in his bunk, nursing his bad mood with a bit of nicked whiskey when the alert popped up on the scrambled piggyback channel. He’d installed back door protocols, skeleton keys and camera workarounds for the entire ship the first week he’d been aboard and had managed to avoid EDI’s interference so far. Not much happened that he wasn’t immediately aware of. He took evil pleasure in how much that would annoy Lawson.

He watched the Kodiak touch down in the deserted cargo hold from the rerouted security monitor in his storage closet. She’d stepped down from the hatch barefoot and carrying her heels, still wearing that sin of a dress as she headed for the elevator. Cheeky minx. A pent up tension he’d carried since her departure eased between his shoulders.

A quiet “huh” escaped his pursed lips. Her usual efficient movements looked reserved, as she turned back to the Kodiak to say something to Goto, he could see the noticeably reddened skin down her arm. Healed skin, Medi-gel slick. Apparently the heist didn’t go as smoothly as the report he’d pilfered off Chamber’s data pad had indicated. The little shit had lied on her official report. The slow anger mingled with the relief. She definitely could have died, but she didn’t, but she could have. She had been injured and had managed it herself to appear no worse for wear. Prideful thing.

Zaeed grunted. Coming to some kind of decision before he could look more closely at his motivations. He snatched up the half empty bottle and headed for the door. How they left things had quietly ate away at him. And now that he knew she made it out alive, he was compelled to finish what they started. Glancing at his reflection in the window overlooking the cargo hold he grimaced. He’d always have a fucked up mug, the scars of his face telling of a dangerous life lived, but that hadn’t seemed to matter to her.

Tapping a quick loop in the corridor cameras along the way, he slid unnoticed to the service hatch and made his way upstairs. He beat Shepard to her quarters and used the skeleton key protocol on his omni-tool to let himself in. He hadn’t been up here since he’d slept in her bed the night she’d drunk herself stupid over some idiot boy. He still thought about how, under different circumstances, that night could have gone. He’d laid awake most of that night listening to her quiet breathing, marveling at how sleep softened all her hard edges. He was the idiot.

Zaeed had debated with himself over and over again to let whatever their last meeting had stirred up die a quiet, dignified death. Never to be spoken of again. He took a deep swig of the amber liquid and set the bottle down on her desk. He wasn’t the “go quietly” kinda guy though, and he sure as shit wasn’t a coward. He hoped she wasn’t either.

~~~

The door whooshed open and his entire body stiffened, the black work of his tattoos shifting as his folded arms tightened. He had leaned against the the wall beside the door, failing miserably at trying to affect casualness. He had rehearsed so many clever opening lines. Hey sweetheart. Hey kitten. Hey princess. I told you so. I’m glad you’re alive. I’m sorry? Second guessing every life choice that led him here. But he had to be here. They had unfinished business.

Her head was down as she stepped over the threshold. Throwing her shoes across the room with a clatter, she was lost in thought, her guard down. Zaeed really meant to talk to her. To clear the air, to give her shit, but he watched her pull that maddening quantity of hair from its binding, its shiny curtain hiding him from her view and his fingers twitched.

All his smooth plans slid out of his addled brain. He was so fucked.

Before he could assess the stupidity of his actions, Zaeed’s calloused hand wrapping around her wrist, mirroring how their last encounter started, he pulled her towards him. And again, that uncharacteristically feminine gasp as she collided against him. Her breasts pressed flush against his chest, solid and warm and all her.

It was a fucking match and he was ignited.

Lightning quick, Shepard’s free hand had instinctively come up to lock around his throat, her thumb pressed against his thundering pulse, ready to squeeze the life she held out of him. Her wide eyes met his, darting across his face as recognition dawned.

“Zaeed?” Her breathy whisper escaping full, parted lips tightened his chest and went straight to his cock. She didn’t let go.

He was truly fucked.

Zaeed took the split second of her not kicking his ass as an invitation to commit suicide and with a sandpaper growl slotted his mouth across hers. Words replaced by action. This wasn’t his plan but god dammit, she kissed him back. Her tongue followed the seam of his lower lip before teasing inside, she swallowed his answering groan and leaned in.

He dropped her captured wrist and slid battle hardened hands under the curve of her ass, lifting as he slammed her against the bulkhead. His narrow hips pinning her against the wall, she instinctively wrapped those long legs around him, distributing her weight and freeing his hands. In for a penny, he thought as she molded her free hand along his jaw, guiding his mouth were she wanted it, teeth nipping, tongue soothing the sting. She sure as shit wasn’t a coward.

Following the curve of slit bared thigh with one hand, he slid the other into that glorious hair. He was going to live out one of his thousands of fantasies, before she could strangle him to death. He pulled her hair tight in his fist and her lips broke from his on a wet gasp. Her eyes hooded, burning and the groan the tension pulled from her lips was a fucking drug.

Her thumb ran the groove of his neck muscle, her eyes following it’s path, watching the havoc it wreaked across his face and he was harder than he’d been in his life. Her thumb dug a little deeper into his neck and he saw stars.

“Fuck, girl.” He tortured voice squeezed past her grip as his hips rutted against her warm core separated by only a few flimsy layers of cloth. He rolled his hips against her again and she groaned in return.

“Please.” She ground out, her head craned back from the tension, exposing the smooth column of her neck.

“Please, what?” His voice rasped. His lips and teeth trailing down her neck before nipping hard at her sensitive bared shoulder, marking the freshly repaired skin.

“Fuck me Zaeed.”

“Is that an order Commander?” He teased. Rolling his hips again.

“Yesss.” She hissed.

He chuckled darkly and she squeezed again cutting off his air before easing up. If she killed him, he’d die happy.

“Hold tight baby.” He mouthed against her skin and brought her away from the wall to drop her unceremoniously on her desk. Shoving aside the bottle of forgotten whiskey, data pads and ship models he stood between her bent knees working on fantasy number two. He ran his hands up her thighs trying to ruch up her too tight dress. What was once a mouth watering trigger was the bane of his fucking existence.

“Goddamn it. You like this dress princess?” He growled out.

“I fucking hate it.” Her voice vehement, her hands frantically scrambled across the plans of his abs, fisting at his hips and yanking the shirt from his pants. He leaned back allowing her to pull it from his body. He was all hard planes, scar tissue and ink. A taught body used as a weapon and a canvas and he could feel her eyes leaving a trail of fire wherever they landed. Frozen for a moment in her observation, he took her distraction to his advantage.

“Good.” The glint in his eyes feral as he grabbed the slitted seam and with an angry grunt tore it from hem to neckline. Jesus Christ. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. All of Commander Logan Shepard was suddenly on display for him and he was struck dumb. His hands sliding along her ribs of their own volition. Thumbs grazing the gentle curve of her petite, high breasts to cup gently. She was an athlete, lean muscle clad in silken new skin. The reconstruction scars all but faded, leaving a faint map for him to follow. How could his mouth water and be dry at the same time? He choked down a swallow.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice cracked, full of reverence.

“Zaeed,” her voice exasperated as she grabbed his pants at the V of his hips to pull him in. “I gave you an order.”

His bark of laughter cracked.

“You’re a goddamn brat, you know that?” He said, grabbing her behind the knees and dragging her to the edge of the desk.

“You like me this way old man.” Her voice thick and sultry as she fumbled with his tabs.

Zaeed wasn’t ready to give in to her every whim. She was a brat too used to calling all the shots and getting her way. He’d show her the benefit of experience. He slapped her hands away from his pants and dropped to his knees between her dangling legs.

“Wh.. what are you doing.” She stammered.

“Whatever I want.” His insolent reply. “Are you ticklish sweetheart?” His voice now heavy with threat.

“Zaeed…” Her voice suddenly high with panic.

Zaeed tilted his worn face up to to her. His mismatched eyes were bottomless as he slowly slid one of her legs over his shoulder, daring her to stop him. His hand resting heavy at the crease of her hip, locking her there before using his other hand to press her dangling knee wide, exposing all of her to him. He never took his eyes from her as ran his stubbled jaw across her inner thigh. Like a big cat scenting, he abraded the delicate skin and her breathing hitched. He couldn’t keep the satisfied smirk from his lips. He watched the charming pink flush across her chest, but she remained fixed.

Her breath was ragged now as she watched him with wide, glittering eyes. He’d never seen her so rattled, so out of control her hands gripping the desk edge for support. He felt like a god there between her thighs. Zaeed watched her closely as he moved his way up towards her glistening core. Ghosting the back of his knuckles against her thigh, closer and closer and closer still.

“Do you want this?” He asked. Pivoting from his earlier bravado.

“God dammit Zaeed, yes!” She yelled back and he huffed in agreement before laying his mouth against her to drown in her flavor. They both groaned in satisfaction, his eyes daring her to look away and goddamn she was no coward. She fisted her hand in his hair and bucked up into his mouth dragging a groan from him he swore went straight to her cunt by the sudden increase in slickness.

Doubling his efforts, Zaeed alternated his attack. Laving flat tongue to a point and flick, he sucked her sensitive bud into his mouth and Shepard’s eyes rolled closed as her head tipped back on a strangled moan. He could feel her body tense and jerk when he hit that particularly responsive spot. He couldn’t remember a meal he’d enjoyed more as he buried his face against her. She was sweet and salty and fucking wet. This was everything he’d imagined, but he could do more. He flicked his tongue once more against that swollen nub before dragging himself away. Her desperate whine at the sudden loss swallowed as he kissed her. Her tastes mingling on his tongue, he wouldn’t leave her bereft.

All that weapon honed dexterity meant that Zaeed had talented hands which he put to good use sliding through her folds. One finger, knuckle deep, two, pressing his palm against her mound as she rode against his hand, her nails latched into the backs of his arms. Taught muscle gripped tight as her only anchor to reality. The calloused thumb of his other hand grazing over the edges of her breast, cupping the tidy handful, her nipple rolled between nimble fingers before migrating back to her hair, cradling her skull as he worked her over. His mouth swallowing the moans and sighs and filthy words he dragged from her lips.

“Fuck.” She hissed again. “Please.” Coherent sentences failing, but the desperation clear as a bell. She slid her hands down to his pants. Her intentions to divest him of the rest of his clothing.

“Use your words princess.” His breath warm in the shell of her ear. His teeth grazing.

“Fuck me Zaeed.” Her impatience burned in each syllable.

He slanted his mouth over hers again before deftly popping the tabs on his pants and shoving the fly aside. He needed her as much as she needed him. He didn’t have time to shed his boots and pants. His wicked games in the end tortured them both.

Freed from its confines, Zaeed pulled his hand from her moist folds to take the heavy weight of his cock in hand, pumping twice before running the swollen head against her slick and she keened. The sound was music to him. He hadn’t wanted a woman this bad in all his long memory and he savored the precipice before sliding home, one agonizing inch at a time.

Jesus. He was going to die.

He went torturously slow to allow her time to adjust before Zaeed finally came to rest, hilted deep on her exalted sigh and him almost in pain at holding his control. Every nerve was on fire, his body as tight as a bow as he covered her, holding onto her hip to anchor them both. She was so fucking warm, so tight, so perfect. His soul felt like it was leaving his body.

He was definitely going to die.

Shepard hooked her legs over his hips, locking her heels at the small of his back and drew him in closer. His self control stretched to its breaking point and he pressed his forehead to hers, eyes dipping closed. Their ragged breathing tied and suddenly everything was much more serious. This wasn’t about power struggles, or blowing of some good natured sexual tension. She had somehow replaced a life of hollow, selfish existence with something more. He was laid raw before her.

“You don’t know what hell you put me through.” His voice was rough with need and emotion.

“Show me.” Her response a challenge and his eyes shot open, locking with hers. Always there to push him farther.

Zaeed threaded his hand into her hair again. Holding her immobile before him so he could watch her face as he torturously dragged himself from her. Slowly, slowly back before slamming home again. All of her passion. All of her need was written across her features. Her pupils blown and mouth a pretty “o” as he fucked into her again, building speed and force until they both held on for dear life. The repeated thud of his hips against hers thick and meaty, in time with her breathy moans. He was quickly approaching that cliff’s edge and he’d be damned if he didn’t shove her off first. He was not gentle and the sting of racked nails meant she wasn’t either.

God, he hopped they scarred.

Zaeed crashed his mouth into hers, swallowing her cries and pouring all of his repressed anger and lust and fear into her. He reached between their fevered bodies and dragged a heavy thumb across her clit. Once, twice, he could feel she was close. Her walls fluttering and her breath shallow and quick. A third time and over the edge she went, clamping down on him like a vice and her voice strangled on his name.

“I got you baby.” He whispered as he slowed his pace, fucking her gently through her orgasm. Shepard’s eyes fluttered open, and she slid her hand across the flat plane of his chest, to encircle his throat again. Thumb back into that groove like it was made for her. She lightly applied pressure.

“Who told you to stop?” The command back in her voice.

Zaeed’s guttural groan rumbled through them as he picked up his pace and effort. Hard and harder still chasing his own release. His fingers leaving bruises across her hips as he dug in. Pistoning in and out, chasing that ragged edge as he watched their bodies join and separate with a violence that would scare a lesser woman. But not her. She stroked the corded muscles of his neck, applying the perfect level of pressure, her eyes hooded as shallow grunts left her on each thrust.

There was no question who held the reins here. She fucking owned him. She held his being in the palm of her hand and the grip of her cunt and if he died now. It was worth it.

“Come for me, Zaeed.” Her voice whisper soft and it threw him across that edge. He buried himself deep with a howl and filled her. Shallow thrusts riding the aftershocks until he stilled. His breathing ragged with his face buried in her neck. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close to her breast, as it took everything to hold himself up, let alone together.

After a moment of relearning to breathe he pushed away from her. Searching her face for the rejection he knew was coming next. Thanks for the fun, now get the fuck out. He searched her face for a hint of the acid to come. But her eyes were soft, her smile satisfied. She gently brushed a lock of his faded hair from his forehead back and out of his eyes.

“Take me to bed Zaeed.” She was back to giving orders.

“Yes ma’am.” He hummed low.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Fishman Island

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

i know i’ve said it before but i really, really love the entirety of reunion arc. it might be short, but there’s just so much fun and joy packed into it after the extremely fraught and upsetting paramount war. there’s something exhilarating about seeing characters who could barely compete on the world stage two years ago not just come back from nigh-obliteration, but come back so much stronger. this is true about fishman island as a whole as well, really, which is the main reason i enjoy it so much. 

every time we get to see luffy flex his conqueror’s haki absolutely fills me with delight.

brook’s return to the crew is, i think, the most meaningful of all of them. he knew them for, what, a week or two in-universe prior to the separation at sabaody? and in the two-year interim, he becomes basically an extremely successful rock star known worldwide and selling out stadiums. and yet he doesn’t hesitate a moment to drop all of that, to declare before the world that luffy is alive and will be king, because he might have only known the strawhats for a little while but they saved him, and he’s going to see his dream through to the end with them. 

this is possibly my favorite panel in all of one piece. it just makes me so fucking happy to finally see him again! 

i’m a big fan of oda’s choice in not revealing his full design until this moment, so that we get to see him finally appear in all his glory the same moment the rest of the world does, just in time for him to explode back into the public consciousness and fuck up sentoumaru’s whole day. 

i feel like i might be repeating myself a little with regards to reunion arc, but i don’t really care- it just makes me happy. this spread where luffy finally arrives back at the sunny- look how delighted they all are to see him! look how much they missed him! the strawhats are such a family, even though at this point they’ve just spent far more time apart than they’ve ever spent together, and i just adore them so much. 

roger is one of my favorite flashback characters and definitely one of the characters i wonder about the most, and a lot of the thoughts i have about him circle back around to this panel right here. where did he get the hat? why did he give it to shanks? why did he choose to set out to sea who is he- 

i think about kuma a lot. for such a minor character his tragedy is immense, and i would really like to know more about him, why he chose to do the things he did, what his relationship with dragon and the other revolutionaries was like- whether there’s any chance he can still be saved. 

fishman island is absolutely gorgeously drawn. i’d call it absolutely the prettiest setting in the series until wano, and i think that, like wano, it’s clear oda was waiting to draw it for a very long time. the amount of detail and care put into all of the big establishing shots is really breathtaking.

one of the reason i think fishman island is so fun is because the comparatively lower stakes, combined with how much stronger the strawhats are, means they get to be at their most fully chaotic best. they take ryuuguu palace hostage almost completely unintentionally, off-screen, and then immediately start bickering and making ransom demands. i love them so much. 

i love luffy and shirahoshi’s relationship so much- i love how much she trusts him to keep her safe, and i love how easily he does it. i love how he’s brutally honest with her but never really mean and how he encourages her to open up her world and do new things even when it’s scary and dangerous, and lets her take things at her own pace. 

i think the sun pirates’ symbol is probably my favorite jolly roger in the series, both because it’s so well-established in the story, all the way back to arlong park, and because it has so much meaning. the shadow of fisher tiger’s life and death is cast over the entire story long before we even know he existed. 

the symbolic destruction and replacement of the slave brand with the rising sun is so, so cool, and the knowledge of the reasoning behind the symbol also makes it clear long before its confirmed in-story just how empty hody and his crew are. their versions of the symbol are open, with the silhouette of a decapitated human, because they have no brand to cover. 

i care so much about koala and fisher tiger, and the relationship between them as two former slaves and two deeply injured people, and how fisher tiger still manages to muster the strength to be good and gentle to her even after how much humans have hurt him. 

i think it’s really a shame that he never got to see who and what she grew up to be as a direct result of his kindness. i think he would’ve been really proud of her.

i’ve always really liked that otohime isn’t perfect. she’s not as flawless as she first appears to be- gets angry and frustrated and even drunk and shouty when her own people won’t listen to her trying to help them, and it makes her feel so much more real. her patience and pacifism feel much more admirable when we’re also shown how hard she fights to keep them up. she works to be good.

one thing i like in one piece is how much value is placed on just the value of knowledge, of writing, of reading and understanding. it’s visible in how one of the rarest powers in the world is the ability to hear the voice of all things, and in the poneglyphs, too. 

one of my favorite things about luffy is how he becomes a hero by trying not to be one. he doesn’t care about how people view him, and he never has; he really only cares about his friends and loved ones. it’s just that he’s also an incredibly easy person to befriend, and if those friends need help, then he’ll help them, regardless of the cost. most of the island-saving he does is just positive collateral to luffy’s driving desire for the people he cares about to be safe and happy. 

i have always loved strawhat group shots ever since back in east blue when the crew was just three people, and they’ve only gotten more exhilarating as the crew has expanded and full-crew shots have become less common in the new world. it’s always just awesome, seeing them all together and united for a common purpose, whether it’s saving robin in enies lobby or kicking hody’s ass here.

my friend zeph grainjew calls moments like these, where other members of the strawhats deal with a problem so luffy doesn’t have to, ‘honor guard moments’, and i really like them. they’re a display of both the loyalty luffy’s crew has for him and the trust luffy has for them right back.

the thing about shirahoshi is that she’s not a coward. she’s a crybaby and overemotional and extremely skittish (which, for the record, is fully understandable for someone who’s been the subject of constant assassination attempts since she was six), but when it comes down to it, she’s fully ready and willing to let herself get killed by the noah in order to protect her people and her country. she’s so brave.

i sometimes see people complain that the villains of fishman island are flat and boring, as though that’s not the whole point, as though the entire arc isn’t a treatise on the importance of not passing hatred down to children. of course hody and his crew are hollow, they’re the equivalent of malcontented shitty white men who become neo-nazis because it’s easier to blame minorities for their problems. 

luffy’s victory over hody itself is nothing. it’s easy, it’s only barely a challenge because they fight in the open water and luffy is a devil fruit user, and in the larger scheme of the one piece world, hody is nobody to even take notice of, no matter how grand his ambitions might be. what’s important isn’t hody’s defeat itself, it’s that the children of fishman island see luffy come when shirahoshi calls, and that at the end of the arc, they all want straw hats of their very own.  

this might genuinely be a coincidence, but i’ve always liked that fishman island, an arc all about inheritance and what we pass down to our successors, is when luffy first pulls out red hawk, an attack clearly inspired by ace. inheritance can positive or negative- the negative examples in this arc are obvious, but there are positive ones, too. we can also see it with koala and fisher tiger, or with jinbe and both of the legacies he’s shouldered. it’s up to us what we leave behind. 

for all that fishman island isn’t the strongest arc on its own, i do think it has by far one of the strongest endings. it’s an arc all about hurt and loss and how it gets passed down and renewed over generations, and it ends with a return to zero. everything’s not better, but the wound’s been cleaned and bandaged, and now it can finally, finally start to heal. 

and into the new world we go! with skies full of fire and oceans full of lightning, looking just like the entrance to hell- and all our crew can’t wait to get there. 

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

[dreamii-yume]

Hey Yume, some of your one shots have the boys being really rough on the poor reader. How would they react if they wound up ALMOST killing reader because of their rough treatment? Would their behavior towards Reader change?

*SINFIC CH. 10 FLASHBACKS a-about that, Honey...ヽ(；▽；)

Riddle and Malleus would feel their own hearts skip multiple beats that it actually hurt. They drop everything that their holding, probably their staff, and every action that could bring further danger to you would be ceased immediately. They’ll quickly check you in every angle to see if you’re injured anywhere else and would try to talk to you just to make sure that you’re still breathing, looking closely you could clearly see the look of fear in their eyes. Riddle would probably panic real bad while Malleus would remain quiet, but the beating of his heart is deafening. They’ll stumble over their own words when given the chance to talk to someone (Trey/Lilia) as they try to explain what happened.

This would probably alert their paranoia in the coming future, fearing that something similar might happen again and would one day take your life in an unfair way. They would be a lot more gentle, and in Riddle’s case, would lower down his resitrictions to make sure you won’t suffocate with them too much. They’ll make sure this won’t happen again, but they’ll become more protective, that’s for sure.

Trey, Ruggie, Jamil, and Silver aren’t usually the types to be rough with their Darlings, but for the sake of this ask, let’s just say that you did something that really ticked them off, causing them to act like so. Since these are the characters that has their emotions kept under control most of the time, they’ll most likely won’t recognize how much strength they have used against you. This would result into their own surprise as they realized that their Darlings barely responded and was at the brink of passing out because of it. They’ll immediately have their guard up, quickly running to your side to inspect whatever injury you’re suffering from. All jokes and silliness would be wiped away from their faces as they tend to you in all seriousness, talking to you so you wouldn’t fall completely unconscious and god forbid, never wake up again.

They may sound calm when they’re tending to you, if your injury is something that they can’t handle alone, they’ll have no problem calling someone who’s a lot more professional than they are. Their words are clear and no trace of nervousness can be heard, but that’s just in your and other people’s perspective. Looking deep into their hearts, it’s racing so fast that it can’t even put into words. They know what they did wrong and for the first time since they got you, they felt actual fear that they might’ve lost you right then and there. They’ll apologize to you right after, smiling at you, saying how everything was their fault.

Of course, this will motivate them to do better next time, to keep their emotions calm no matter how intense the situation may be for the both of you. Because you never know, there might never be a next time around.

Ace, Cater, and Floyd are the types that wouldn’t notice their sudden fit of strength at first. Whether they got too excited, angry, or irritated, they won’t notice how much they have hurt you the first time. If you’re not responding, Cater and Ace would probably dismiss it as you being uncooperative, Cater might even fake a sulking personality saying how “teasing him is so mean”. However, someone like Floyd wouldn’t appreciate getting ignored by his Darling so if say, you lost consciousness during this time around, expect that he’ll try shaking you awake, possibly even rougher than before as he expects you to constantly tend to him in his every needs. But everything would change for these three men when you either start to bleed from an injury, your breathing slows down, or your completely unresponsive no matter how much they try to shake you awake.

They’ll all probably have similar reactions, they’ll call out for you gently at first, trying to wake you up and saying that what you’re doing isn’t “funny”. Eventually, they’d come to understand that this was no prank, you’re really losing every bit of your life right in front of them and that immediately place a heavy weight of panic upon their shoulders. They would curse both yourself and themselves as they try to tend for you, clearly unaware of what to do. Floyd would most likely call Jade or Azul, whining how Little Shrimpy’s “not moving” anymore while Ace and Cater might do the most reasonable act and take you to a nearby hospital. After this crisis had been averted, I think that although they may have the similar reactions, they’re behavior right after would vary from each character.

Floyd and Ace will most likely bring that blame on yourself, Ace especially saying how things happened the way it is because you’re so stubborn and that you’re not following his orders at all. You just won’t expect an apology from Ace at all, but deep down inside he knows that he’s the one who’s guilty but just can’t admit it himself. Floyd, on the other hand, will also put the blame on you but not in the way you think he would. He’ll most likely blame you because of how you made him feel throughout that whole ordeal, that it’s Little Shrimpy’s fault that he’s this worried and anxious now. He doesn’t blame you for what happened to you, in fact, I think he does realize that he’s the one at fault and would even apologize, although he sounds like a child saying sorry to another child he stole a crayon from.

And now, we have Cater, who would definitely recognize his own faults but covers it up with a smile as he apologizes in such a half-assed manner. You, as his Darling, would have a hard time believing him even though the guilt is practically eating Cater on the inside. He’s just not really that honest with himself, plus such a dark atmosphere is not something he’s good at handling, you know? But he made extra sure that you can see how serious he is when he said that he can change his ways, that he’ll control himself from now on so that was at least something. As for Ace and Floyd, they wouldn’t really change all that much after everything is all said and done, except for a few hesitance here and there, not wanting for the same situation to strike again.

At least they’re doing their best, yeah?

Deuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek are characters that are generally rough when they get too ahead of their emotions, even if they try to control themselves. But sometimes, things happens and they get a bit too far in line and almost immediately, once they hear an unusually loud gasp of pain from you, that’s when they know that they did something very wrong. Just seeing your weakened form would automatically shift their realization to their own strength and how rough they had been, however before they could even apologize, what they did had unfortunately already happened. Deuce especially would try to tend to you with whatever he can, panicking the most out of the four as he tries to remember what he could do at this dire moment. Obviously, he can’t treat your wounds like how he recklessly does his in the past after a brutal fight so he would probably result into calling a senior or a nearby hospital if the injury looks too risky.

Epel would panic, but a little less than Deuce at least as he would remember all the herbalism lessons he received from Vil, and what kind of treatment he should do with such injury. Despite everything, he’s still a Pomefiore student who prides himself with potions along with everyone else, right? He’s determined about which potions to give you, all those hellish training he received must’ve prepared him just for this moment. Of course, when things goes to down south and he isn’t able to act up fast enough, he’ll suck up his pride and go to either his Vice Dorm or Dorm Leader themselves for some help. Jack and Sebek would have similar reactions though, but of course, Sebek would be the one to panic first.

Sebek will check if your situation is something he can handle first, calling out to you with his usual loud voice, slowly getting frightened that his tone was doing nothing or even lifting your consciousness back up. Sebek doesn’t trust any other humans to take care of you so he’ll probably go to Lilia during times of desperation, explaining loud and clear what happened and humbly asks for his help. Meanwhile, Jack is the type to be calm on the outside but that single strand of sweat down his forehead shows how nervous he really is on the inside. He’ll do everything he can to save your situation, trying to ignore the overwhelming guilt in his heart for now as he takes you to a nearby hospital. Yes, he’s calm but he still might end up blowing a fuse and growls aggressively when a staff member asks too many questions since he’s so anxious that they you might not make it if they don’t take care of you right away.

Overall, I think all of them but Sebek would have similar reactions and outcome right after. They’ll apologize and would promise to you that something like this won’t ever happen ever again and that they’ll take care of you better. Sebek however, would be quite stubborn about it, shifting the blame on you for being too “weak” to handle something like that. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty himself, he won’t openly show it but along with all the other three, they’ll become a lot more protective than they used to be, shielding you from anything that’s harmful. They’ll be a little less overbearing and could even give you a bit more freedom despite their own paranoia if you really want to.

Of course, that doesn’t mean you can take advantage of that, okay?

Leona is aware how rough he is with you, that’s just his overall nature as a beast after all. Though, you might not notice this time around, but he actually tries to hold back whenever he can to accomodate to your needs, so that you wouldn’t break so easily within his hands. But today does not seem to be the day, control was not added to his list this time around. Clicking his tongue as soon as he noticed the alarming difference in your breathing and heartbeat, he’ll most likely throw his phone at Ruggie or Jack to call the nearby hospital along with his wallet too, though he doesn’t like the thought of handing you over to someone, even if it were medical professionals. If there’s a healing potion nearby, he’ll quickly snatch it up, read the first label, before shoving it down your throat without even reading the rest of the potion description.

...Now, you might see him as reckless and even more aggressive than before when you were fine, but you have to understand. This was desperation he’s feeling, there was no way in hell he’ll admit it but the moment he felt your heartbeat slow down, his emotions dropped down in an alarming rate too, you know? So, of course he’ll be this aggressive when trying to save you from a life or death situation. There was just no way that he’s going to let you go out like this, death doesn’t even have the right to take you away from him. Of course, despite everything, this doesn’t really change his ways after everything’s all said and done, you know?

An apology just doesn’t seem like something that would come out of Leona’s mouth anytime soon so, I don’t recommend expecting anything. In fact, he might even get angry at you, saying things like how you took way too long to recover and won’t even give you time to protest back. But he’s aware that he’s at fault at least, he accepted it actually, but frankly, he just doesn’t care if you see him as a villain or anything lik that. He’ll still treat you with the same roughness and aggresiveness as before, but somehow you began to notice how his bites doesn’t seem to dig as far beyond your flesh that it bleeds anymore, it was just enough to cause a mark now. You don’t even dare to mention how cuddling time seems to last longer than it should’ve had.

Situations like these might bring Azul and Kalim to tears, realizing that their actions had gone too far for your body to handle. They’re quick to use all the healing elixirs they had and Kalim would immediately call for Jamil’s assistance while Azul calls for the twins. Some potions takes a while to take in effect, it’s a fact that they knew however just can’t tolerate the thought of sitting there and not doing anything, Azul most especially. They’ll call for multiple doctors that they had personal connection with, Kalim would even call for doctors that works for the royal families and doesn’t care how much he’ll have to pay them even if it means saving his Darling. Azul would be the type to yell at each doctor to hurry the hell up before it’s all too late due to panic, so different from his usual calm self.

Their behavior changes quite similarly with each other as they would both apologize to you over and over again, their arms wrapped around you as if you’ll disappear once they loosened their hold. This is probably going to traumatize both of them and will become even more protective than they ever did with you, watching everything you do in anticipation of another dangeous situation. Kalim has a better grasp over his emotions since he listens to you better and promises to never become rough with you ever again, but he’ll stay with you for the majority of the time, granting everything you could wish for and to make sure that you’re being taken good care of. But good luck trying to talk you way out with Azul though, this man is a bit more unhinged when it comes to his emotions. He won’t listen to your suggestions because he only believes in the things that he thinks is right for you.

Although Azul promised you that he won’t be as rough next time, you have a feeling that this uncontrollable paranoid feelings of his would be the exact thing that would ultimately lead him to break his own promise.

Jade, Rook, and Lilia would be surprised but not at all panicked, these are the characters that knows fairly well how nimble human life could be and had already prepared for situations like this. They’ll carefully tend to you and fix what they did wrong, soothing your pained expression in a matter of minutes, since they’re so used to this by now. They’ll apologize right after, feeling genuinely saddened by what happened to you as an outcome of their own selfishness, but I don’t think they’ll change their ways anytime soon. It’s disturbing to think that they might even do it again for all we know, just to observe what will happen and to know how far they can really go. But they’ll have to make sure to be very careful the next time they try though, they won’t like you broken after all. A terrifying thought, isn’t it?

It might capture Vil off-guard at first, the way his Darling suddenly weakened for receiving too much punishments, but it was nothing to worry about when he’s this talented when it comes to elixirs. With just a single drop, he’s confident that he can clear you all off your pain and injuries would go away just like that, if you’re a good girl that is, but of course, he’ll use it when it’s a life or death situation...Unless the potion doesn’t work, then that would be a different story which would lead Vil to immediately contacting the nearest hospital. I think Vil would definitely realize his own faults here and apologize to you right after, but expects you to learn your lesson as well. It doesn’t really change the way he acts towards you but he’ll certainly become a lot more careful in the future.

Idia wouldn’t know what to do and panic with tears prickling around his eyes as the blue flames that is his hair roared in anxiety. His flexible fingers would do a quick search in the net in mere seconds, but none of the solution seems to align with what he did, plus you were running out of time so he needed to actually move for real. He’ll use Ortho to initiate medical mode on you in which the young robot will be more than willing to do while he remains by your side, apologizing constantly, saying how much of a screw-up he is that he wasn’t even able to take care of you properly. This will definitely scare him in the future, especially now that he realized how fragile you really are. He got a good glimpse of what will happen if he ends getting too comfortable with your body, the mere thought of it happening again will traumatize him enough that he might not even touch you for a while.

...He will get lonely though so, little by little, he might try to talk to you, always asking if you’re okay.

This took me way too much time but it’s worth it~ (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀) I love it when these boys suffer because of their own yandere consequences lol